Trial by Fire - a Boeshane Mate Pt2
by Awatere11
Summary: So Ianto and Jack have an uneasy truce ... time to test it. IF you've not read part one, this might not make sense.
1. Chapter 1

_1_

Ianto dressed quickly, pulled his jacket around his shoulders, and hurried outside.

Cool air struck his cheeks as he crossed the yard, his footsteps light over the dewy ground. He stepped through the barn door to the now familiar scents of horse and hay. By the light of a lantern, Jack was shovelling shit out from under Alice, dropping it into a wheelbarrow.

Ianto stood in the doorway, pulling his jacket tighter around his shoulders, waiting for some instruction.

"You might want to shovel out some of the mess before you start each morning," Jack told him.

A few moments later, when the stall was clean, he pulled a small stool up beside the cow. He reached for a bucket and set it down with a _clunk_.

Ianto was still standing by the door and feeling rather silly, swallowed when Jack leaned out of the stall and looked at him, his dark fringe falling forward onto his face. "Coming?"

He nodded and then stepped toward him. "Where do you want me?"

He placed his large hand at the small of his back, guiding him to the stool. "Have a seat right there. Alice, be still."

Ianto sat down, now at eye level with the cow's broad side.

Jack knelt down beside him. "You're going to have to spread your knees apart to lean forward."

Ianto tried to suppress his blush as he slowly spread his legs.

"Now grab hold of her teats and squeeze."

Ianto reached forward, but as soon as his fingers wrapped around the warm teats, Alice took an anxious step sideways and knocked Ianto off the stool, onto his behind.

Ianto's head hit the wall and immediately began to throb.

"Alice!" Jack called out. "Be still!"

He set the stool on its legs again.

"You okay?" he asked, as he helped Ianto up and Ianto nodded, trying to hide his shakiness, but also trying not to melt into the warmth of his strong hand.

"She knows you're a stranger," he said. "She'll be better this time. Try again. Show her who is boss."

Ianto nervously reached forward, steadying himself for another fall, his heart thumping away inside his chest.

Why did he have to do this? Couldn't Jack continue with it?

Obviously, Alice preferred him. But when he wrapped his hands around the warm teats, he discovered Jack was right. Alice stood still long enough for him to get a tight grip.

"That's it. Now squeeze the milk out."

Ianto squeezed with all the strength he possessed, but nothing happened. He'd never felt so incompetent in all his life.

"Keep trying," Jack told him. "You have to get a feel for it."

Ianto squeezed and squeezed until his knuckles turned white, but still, no milk. "It's not working. What's wrong?"

Jack stared down at Alice's full udder. "She won't let the milk down. Stand up.

Let me try."

Ianto moved aside and Jack sat down. He wrapped his hands around Alice's teats, and without any effort at all, he drew milk into the pail like a song.

"You have to pull and squeeze at the same time," he said. "See?"

And Ianto did see. He saw a pair of big, sun-bronzed hands, capable and strong, yet gentle at the same time massaging the milk out of Alice's udder.

Coaxing it with a natural rhythm and he wondered ridiculously if Alice was enjoying herself.

When Ianto remembered how Jack had caressed him on their wedding night, he wasn't surprised Alice had kicked her aside.

"Now, you try," Jack suggested.

Ianto squatted down on the stool again, this time making an effort to imitate his husband's style. Nothing happened at first. Then a drip fell. "There! It's working!"

It wasn't long before Ianto, too, was coaxing the milk into the bucket in steady, forceful streams. He was doing it!

"Well done," Jack said.

Ianto glanced up to find him smiling. That smile was so rare, it was captivating. It made his body tingle and his bones turn to jelly.

The milk stopped coming and the barn grew quiet.

Ianto tried clumsily to fix his grip, wishing he could understand the nature of these feelings that kept rising up within him. He didn't understand why he was so desperate to please a man who had treated him so appallingly that first day and seemed determined to resent him forever.

Ianto dropped his hands to his knees to rest them for a minute. Glancing up at Jack, he searched his expression for some sign of warmth or affection. Or desire.

He stared down at Ianto for a long moment in the lamplight, then he looked away as if he had something else pressing to do.

Feeling rejected, Ianto returned his attention to the milking while he wondered if Jack had seen the emotion in his eyes, or felt his desire to mend what was broken between them.

If he _had_ seen or felt it, it was obvious he had preferred to ignore it.

Jack gave Alice a pat on the back. "It shouldn't take you much longer. Just keep going until the milk stops coming."

Then Jack quickly turned away and walked out of the barn.

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A few days later, Ianto leaned over the butter churn, pumping vigorously and massaging his sore back, when he heard the skipper pull into the yard.

He quickly abandoned his work to prepare the fried salt pork with gravy, corn bread and coffee…Jack's usual mid-day meal.

He was slicing the bread when the door swung open.

"How is the work going?" he asked, realizing he asked the same question every time he entered the house for lunch.

He always gave the same answer as he descended the steps and hung his white Stetson on the hook. "Fine. It's coming along."

When he approached the stove and went for the coffee pot, Ianto noticed a rip on his sleeve.

"What happened to your shirt?" he served up his food and set the plate on the table.

He tipped the coffeepot over a cup. "Gem tried to nip me."

He walked toward him to examine the rip. "The horse did this?"

"Yes, but I deserved it. I nearly knocked her tooth out setting the bridle in place. Clumsy, I guess."

The torn fabric hung down to reveal his bare, muscled arm. Ianto folded the sleeve back in place to see if it was a clean tear. "I can fix this while you eat. Why don't you take it off?"

He paused with the coffee pot still in one hand, the battered tin cup in the other.

Their gazes locked on each other's, and Ianto became aware that he still held the torn fabric in place to cover his skin.

"It can wait until tonight," Jack said.

Ianto steeled himself, fighting the oncoming blush. "But what if you hook it on something? I'll have twice the sewing to do. Take it off now and I'll be done before you finish your lunch."

Jack hesitated, then set down his cup and turned away from him. The muscles in his back tensed and relaxed as his arms came up to pull the shirt off over his head.

Ianto stood behind him as the shirt fell into his waiting hands.

It still held heat from his body and moisture from his hard work. Ianto had to fight the urge to press it to his face and smell the outdoors mixed with his rugged, and intoxicating, male scent.

"I'll be quick," he assured him, turning to find his needle and thread. His hands trembled as he dug through his belongings, all too aware of his shirtless presence at the table.

When he finally found what he was looking for, he headed for the door without looking up.

"Where are you going?" Jack asked his mouth full of food.

Ianto paused at the bottom step. "It's too dark in here. I need better light."

He hurried up the stairs with the shirt draped over his arm, wondering how Jack had the power to reduce him to this—to make him melt like butter at the sight of his shirtless male form.

But that smooth muscular chest and broad shoulders, sun-bronzed and covered in a fine sheen of glistening sweat… _Good God._

With a huff, he folded onto the chair outside and began to stitch the torn sleeve.

When he was nearly finished, he heard Jack's boots tapping slowly up the steps. He quickened his stitching, wanting to be done before he reached him, and in the panic, pricked his middle finger. "Shit!"

He immediately slipped it into his mouth, sucked hard for a second, then pulled it out with a _pop_ before returning his attention to the task of mending his shirt. Before he could complete it, Jack's shadow fell across his lap.

"Stick yourself?" he asked.

Ianto nodded.

"Don't rush it. I'm not ready to face the haying just yet. I think I ate too much." He sat down on the ground beside him with his back against the wall of the dugout.

All was silent as he stitched his shirt at record speed, refusing to look up, even for the space of a single heartbeat. Yet he knew exactly where and how he was sitting, still distractingly bare-chested. He had one leg bent and a forearm draped across his knee, his white Stetson tipped forward over his eyes. And those hard, rippled muscles at his core…

Ianto was beginning to perspire heavily.

When he tied a knot in the thread, he sat up. "All done?"

"Yes. Good as new." Ianto examined his handiwork, then flapped the shirt in the wind.

They both stood up and Ianto handed the shirt to Jack, while keeping his gaze lowered the entire time.

Jack slipped it back on and cleared his throat. "Back to work, I guess."

Ianto also cleared his throat, nervously. "Yes, back to work."

Jack walked to the skipper, examining where the tear in his sleeve used to be. When he hoisted himself up into the seat and gathered up the reins, he paused, staring straight ahead.

Ianto raised his hand to his forehead, shading his eyes from the blinding glare of the sun, watching and waiting for him to be off.

Instead, he looked at him. "Thank you for mending my shirt, Ianto."

Ianto's lips fell open. He gazed up at his perfectly angled face, his jaw peppered with stubble. For the first time, he felt as if he'd been rewarded.

"You're very welcome."

He thumbed the brim of his hat, and then the skipper ambled forward and out onto the vast prairie.

Ianto returned to the house, skipping once on his way to the door.

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Later that day, with a shiver of disgust, Ianto flicked a firehopper off the tablecloth. Before he could blink twice, another one leaped into its place.

"Getaway!" he cried, swiping it with the back of his hand.

Goose bumps rose on his back and arms like a thousand wriggling spiders.

Rubbing his palms on his thighs, he collected himself and turned back to the hot stove. Earlier that afternoon, he'd collected some wild greens Martha had told him to look for, mixed them with some salt pork, onions, and potatoes, chopped everything up, and made a stew.

He bent forward and removed it from the oven, breathing in the aromatic tendrils of steam. He wondered what Jack would think of it.

Ianto looked up at the open door when he heard the skipper roll in. It seemed a little early for Jack to be returning. He went to see what had brought him home.

As he emerged from the tiny dugout and into the sunny afternoon, a hot and drowsy stillness enveloped him.

It seeped uncomfortably into his skin.

"What are you doing home so early?" he asked, trying to shake away the uneasy feeling.

Jack hopped down from the skipper and landed with a thud.

"There were too many firehoppers." He walked toward him, his brow furrowed.

"I noticed a couple of them, myself."

He removed his hat and stared at the darkening horizon.

"Would you like some supper?" Ianto asked. "It's just about done."

"Not yet."

He stared at the sky for another few minutes, pacing back and forth, then donned his hat and moved past him toward the house where Janet was dozing.

Jack stopped outside the door. Janet stood up, her long ears pressed back. Whimpering, she padded toward Jack, who squatted down to scratch behind her ears. "What's the matter, girl? Do you smell something?"

The dog looked around and began to bark. Ianto walked to the edge of the house to see if there was a skipper approaching on the road, but nothing moved, not even the grass.

Nothing chirped or sang or squawked.

A single nervous breeze lifted Jack's hair off his shoulder and then quickly disappeared as if it had hurried to take shelter.

Feeling anxious, Ianto hugged his arms around himself.

"Darn," Jack grunted, then marched angrily toward the geranium plant Ianto had set outside the front door. "What's going on?"

He removed his hat and used it to slap at the petals, shaking his head the whole time. Only then, did Ianto notice the firehoppers falling from the shivering leaves, flitting about in a panic.

"Do you usually get this many insects?" he asked.

"Never." His tone was laden with concern.

Ianto stood in silence, not knowing what else to do.

Jack replaced his hat again and looked at the dusty window. Firehoppers were beating against it as if trying to gain entry to the house. "I think you better close the front door."

Jack picked up the damaged geranium plant to give to Ianto to take inside. They stared at each other, both of them pale with worry.


	2. Chapter 2

2

"The vegetable garden," Ianto said.

Jack nodded once, as if that exact thing had been registering in his mind. He turned to run around the side of the dugout. "Go inside and get some blankets!"

Without another thought, Ianto bolted into the house and down the steps.

He dropped the plant onto the table and ripped the red blanket from the tacks in the ceiling. Quickly, he tore the quilt and sheets from the bed and the flour sack from the table top. Then he ran up the stairs with the pile of blankets in his arms, slamming the door behind him.

Firehoppers were flitting about, banging into the skipper and tormenting the horses, which swung their long tails and shook their heads in a feeble retaliation as they remained hitched to the cart beside the skipper.

With his chest tight with fear, Ianto darted around the house. He felt a sting on his cheek as he collided with one, and then another, of the vexing insects.

Keeping his head down, he rounded the house and reached the little garden where Jack was slapping his hat over the defenceless tomato plants.

Janet was pacing back and forth, growling.

Jack looked up and gestured with his arm. "Bring the blankets. Cover what you can. I'll get some tools to hold them down."

Ianto dropped the pile onto the ground. Within seconds, four or five firehoppers leaped onto the mound of bedding.

"Shoo!" Ianto hollered, as he picked up the top blanket and flapped it hard into the air. The bugs were flung heedlessly about, disoriented then they righted their course toward the garden.

Ianto covered the plants, knowing he was trapping dozens of the hungry insects beneath. Jack returned with some tools and waved his hat over the green leaves, slapping and fanning the trembling plants.

After a moment, he found himself frozen in space, staring in confusion at his husband. He stood in the centre of the garden, ignoring the firehoppers on his shoulders and sleeves.

What was wrong?

Why was he just standing there?

The yellow sunshine of only moments ago was turning gray.

There was a loud ringing in his ears, a violent pounding against his ribcage.

Jack looked pale.

Ianto gazed into his frowning eyes, then turned slowly toward the horizon that held his husband's attention.

"Oh, no," he whispered.

A peculiar cloud was moving in from the west, too dark in colour to be a rain or dust storm. It advanced all too quickly, as if powered by some unearthly energy, floating higher until it blocked the sun.

Ianto moved closer to Jack, who protectively closed his hand around his forearm.

"This can't be happening," Jack said, shaking his head with disbelief.

"What is it?"

He quickly escorted Ianto away from the garden. "I think you better go inside."

Ianto stopped and pulled his arm from his grasp. "Why? Tell me what it is."

Without taking his eyes off the darkening sky, he answered. "It's a fireswarm."

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Jack stopped and watched the firehoppers pass like a dense shadow over the field.

The stalks hushed, as if they were too frightened to even breathe. The dark cloud whirled about like snowflakes in the chaos of a winter storm.

Janet barked while Ianto and Jack stood astonished, hypnotized as they watched the seething, fluttering mass in the distance. It roared like a prairie fire, rasping and ringing and crackling.

Jack snapped himself out of his daze and continued to drag Ianto toward the house.

"What about the crops?" he cried, the full meaning of this invasion settling into his brain.

"I'm going to cut what I can."

Ianto forced him to stop. "You're going to fight them?"

"Yes."

"You have to let me help you."

"No," he replied. "You stay inside. Seal up the house."

"I will, but then I'll come and help."

More pests came upon them, flying into their faces and lodging in their clothing.

Ianto screeched, waving his arms.

"Ianto, I don't think you—"

"You need my help!"

Surprised at his willingness, he looked around the yard. The horses, frightened and restless, were still hitched to the cart, the pigs were snorting in the pen.

"Okay," he said. "Cut what you can from the vegetable garden. Get the animals into the barn and close the doors. I'm going to get my corn knife. We'll start there."

"What about the wheat?"

"We can only be in one place at a time. Go!" He touched the small of his back and sent him off while he ran back to the skipper.

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Crunching firehoppers under his feet with every step, Ianto ran first to the barn to seal it before it became infested.

He screamed at the pigs "Yah! Yah!" and herded them, squealing and snorting, inside.

Ianto slammed and latched the door.

Next, he ran to the edge of the yard where Alice stood at the water trough, lowing and stomping about. "Come on, Alice!"

Ianto led the cow to the barn and slapped her rump. _Slam_ , the door was shut and with a _click_ , it was latched. He swung around. What next?

The garden.

A firehopper hit him in the eye.

"Shit!" he cried, rubbing it. Ianto ran to the dugout and spotted Janet. "Come on, girl! Get over here!"

The dog ran toward him, but stopped a few feet away. Her ears rose and fell as if she knew he meant to lock her up and keep her from her duty as guard dog.

She stubbornly sat down.

"Janet!" Ianto yelled, his patience snapping. "Get in here!"

He clapped his hands and opened the dugout door for him. "Hurry up! There's no time for this!"

After a moment's deliberation, she ran inside.

"Good girl!" he dashed in behind her, his shoes tapping quickly down the dirt steps.

It was dark…where was the knife?

His gaze darted to the table.

The stove.

There.

His fingers closed around the wood handle, he picked up two empty buckets and in a flash he was scurrying back up the stairs, where he paused at the top.

Jack had tried to convince him to stay inside, and the temptation was all too great, but he needed his help.

This was his farm, too.

He strengthened his will and pushed the door open. A mass of winged creatures blew into the house.

"No!" Ianto yelled, forcing himself to dash outside and slam the door behind him.

He heard Janet barking her protest from inside.

Feet drumming over the wriggling, crunchy ground, insects beating against his hat and clothing, he clutched the knife and returned to the vegetable garden.

The blankets, he discovered in horror, were almost invisible, covered with locusts.

Ianto ripped the blankets from the ground, sending a flurry of creatures into the air.

Soon, he had filled two buckets with whatever vegetables were left, leaving the potatoes, which he hoped would be safe underground.

He carried the buckets into the house and then ran outside again to help Jack in the corn field.

By the time he arrived, he looked exhausted. His face was damp with perspiration, his hat literally on fire on his head.

"Did you save the vegetables?" he asked, wiping a sleeve across his forehead.

"They're in the house and all the animals are in the barn."

"Good. Now tie up the stalks I've cut and pile them in the skipper. We can't haul everything back, but if the stalks are bunched, some will survive."

Nodding, Ianto gathered what fell behind Jack.

The green stalks were fast disappearing, impossible as it was to keep up with the firehoppers' greedy jaws.

Before they had stacked a tenth of the crop, the sun had set.

As the insects set fire to their food and then consumed the ash it created, the air filled with a sulphuric smell.

"It's dark!" Ianto called out, trying to see through the cloud of insects between them. "What should we do?"

Jack stopped working and turned to him.

He was covered in sweat and grime.

"You're exhausted. Look at you. You should go back, Ianto. Stay inside."

"No, I can keep working."

Jack stared at him for a long moment, then removed his work gloves. "We can't keep up this pace. We should take a break. Get some food. That'll give me a chance to empty the skipper, get these crops into the barn."

Ianto nodded and followed him to the rig, anxious to return to the house and escape the constant menace of the bugs.

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By the time Jack entered the dugout, Ianto had managed to get his salt pork stew onto the table while killing a few dozen firehoppers in the process. He wiped a damp cloth over his forehead and tried to pat down his messy hair.

Janet sat down next to the stove.

Jack removed his hat.

He looked solemn.

"How long do you think this will last?" Ianto asked.

"I don't know." He sat down at the table and rubbed his eyes.

The house was all too quiet. "Do you think they'll get the wheat?"

"It looks that way."

Serving up the stew, Ianto sensed Jack's discouragement, his need to sit and eat without talking. He probably didn't know how to tell him that the profits from the wheat harvest were supposed to be their sustenance for the winter.

He wasn't sure he wanted to hear it, either.

Troubled, he scooped some water out of the bucket for each of them and gave

Jack a cup. He quickly downed it, his face contorting sourly after he'd swallowed. "Agggh!"

Ianto cringed, examining his own cup of water.

"Oh no," he said. "I scooped them out of the bucket as best I could…the ones that were floating. There must have been some at the bottom."

He set down his cup.

"I can make coffee. That might mask the flavour a bit." he prepared a pot, and while it was heating, he sat down to eat.

"The timing couldn't have been worse," Jack said. "If that swarm had just waited another week, the harvester would have arrived and cut all twenty acres in a couple of days."

Ianto looked across the table, hearing the gloom in his husband's voice. Even so, he seemed too calm, and it worried him. Maybe he thought this would be the final straw to send him running back to Delvon Prime.

Well, not so. Not so….

Closing his eyes, he clasped his hands together. "Thank you, Goddess, for giving us the strength to save some of the corn and vegetables. Thank you for keeping Jack and I safe through all of this. And thank you for this supper. Amen."

He opened his eyes to see Jack staring dazedly at him, his mouth slightly open.

" _Amen_ ," he said, finally.

"Go ahead, dig in," Ianto prompted.

They began to eat, both of them famished.

Occasionally, a stray locust would spring onto the table, only to meet a sudden death under Jack's big, heavy fist.

"I wonder how the Smiths are managing," Ianto said. "Do you think they were invaded, too?"

"I hope not. Mickey has a bigger crop, more to lose."

"But they have the children. Owen would be a help, I think." Ianto frowned.

"Yes, he likely would be. Tosh wouldn't like it much, though. I hate to think of it." Jack huffed.

Ianto felt his heart throb for the little girl. "I hope she's all right."

Jack finished his first helping. "Is there any more?"

"Yes, I'll get you some." Ianto rose to refill his husband's bowl.

When he sat down again, Jack rubbed his forehead. "I have bad news. Before I came in, I went to the vegetable garden to get the blankets we'd left there. I'm afraid there wasn't much left."

"Much left of the garden?"

"No," he answered, his voice tired. "There wasn't much left of the blankets."

Ianto covered his mouth with his hand and looked toward the bare mattress on the bed.

"The darn things burnt right through them," Jack went on. "They were in shreds."

"That was all we had."


	3. Chapter 3

_3_

"I know," Jack said. "You'll have to cover yourself with some clothing, at least until we can get something else."

But without the wheat harvest, how could they afford to buy blankets, much less the bare necessities for the winter?

Jack slid his chair back. "I should go milk Alice and water the horses."

"What about the coffee?"

"When I come back," he answered, donning his hat. "Can you keep it hot for me?"

"Of course."

Jack left, taking Janet with him, and Ianto set to work clearing away the dishes.

Milking Alice was supposed to be Ianto's job. Truth be told, he couldn't face stepping outside again.

Not just yet.

A short time later, Jack returned with a bucket of milk in his hand. Janet followed, tail wagging. Life from inside the house seemed almost normal until Jack set the bucket down.

Ianto looked inside and saw a few insects squirming about in a panic, trying to crawl over each other to save themselves from drowning.

"Ugh!" he groaned, as Jack appeared beside him and scooped them out with a cup.

Ianto felt tears coming, tears he'd fought against all day. As he considered it more, he realized they were the same tears he'd been fighting every day since he'd stepped off the Transporter.

Every time his husband looked at him with that disappointed expression, he'd wanted to weep. But he hadn't. And he wouldn't now. Things could be worse, he told himself.

Though how much worse, he could not imagine.

Feeling Jack's gaze upon him, he looked up.

Jack stared at him, his eyes full of apologies.

Apologies for what?

For the firehoppers?

For the lost crop?

For the coming winter?

Or was it for all that had passed between them?

"When I brought you here," he said, "I didn't think it would be like this."

As he digested Jack's words, all his efforts to keep tears away failed him. All he'd wanted for so long was a kind word from his husband, anything to say that he cared for him, even just a little. He'd wanted to see the gentle man he had seen in the courthouse on their wedding day, the man who had cared enough to sit him down and fan a cool breeze into his face.

Here he was, now, stepping closer to wipe away the single tear that fell down his cheek.

"It's not so bad," he managed to say, his voice shaky.

Jack lowered his hand to his side and stepped back.

"I have to go out again," he replied. "I have to try and save whatever's left. But you should stay here, Ianto. Get some rest."

Ianto thought of him out there in the darkness alone, cutting corn stalks and fighting off the insects. He would be discouraged and he would lose more hope with every passing hour.

No, he decided.

He would not let him down.

Not now.

He would go out there, exhausted or not, and carry the corn stalks, or whatever was left of them, to safety.

"I'm coming with you."

"You don't have to," he replied. But Ianto saw the look of gratitude in his weary eyes. And he saw, for the first time, that he was not disappointed in him.

His appreciation breathed new life into Ianto's worn-out body. Ianto picked up his hat and gazed with driving purpose at his husband. "Try and stop me."

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Jack and Ianto worked until past midnight in the corn field, cutting what was left of the stalks and tying them into secure bundles. Neither of them said it, but they both knew there was little chance much of the crop would survive the rest of the night.

Worn out and thirsty, they returned to the dark little sod house. Jack never imagined any place on earth could feel more warm and welcoming. While Ianto lit the lantern, he went outside to fill a bucket with water from one of the barrels. He had to scoop the firehoppers out with his hand, and he knew it would taste bitter, but his mouth was so dry, he could have devoured a gallon of sour milk.

When he entered the house, he and Ianto both stood at the table, filled their cups and gulped down the water.

"Ergh," Ianto groaned, his delicate features twisting into something unrecognizable.

"Do you think the creek water will taste like this, too?"

"Probably." Jack said softly.

"Will it ever taste good again?"

"I reckon, sooner or later."

A bug fell from the grass ceiling and dropped onto Ianto's head. Jack set down his cup and reached out to brush the insect away.

He did not flinch.

Most mates, he thought, would cry or shriek or do worse, but he supposed Ianto had toughened up considerably, somewhere between the nibbled geranium plant and the ravaged corn field.

He lowered his hand and noticed that Ianto's eyes were hooded. "Is something wrong?"

"I'm just tired," Ianto replied.

He stood close enough to touch. He could even smell him not the rosewater this time. It was just him. He shut his eyes, wanting to enjoy it for a few seconds.

"I couldn't have done this without you," he said, opening his eyes again.

Ianto's soft hand cupped his cheek.

Without conscious thought, he turned his lips into his warm palm and kissed it.

He wanted to cocoon into his warmth and stay there forever. He didn't want to face the firehoppers, the field and the certain devastation that would greet him in the morning.

To his utter surprise, he only wanted Ianto—to hold him close in his arms and to feel his soft bare flesh next to his own.

Startled by his desire, he forced himself to let go of Ianto's hand and take a step back.

He told himself he was only searching for solace because of what was happening outside. Tomorrow, the crop would be gone. Making love to Ianto tonight would not bring it back. It would only plunge him into that black sea of heartache if he decided to leave him which, after this ordeal, was a very real possibility.

Ianto kept his features composed, but he saw in Ianto's eyes that he'd been wounded by his withdrawal.

"Are you okay?" Ianto asked.

He nodded, and tried to remember that he had a duty to himself to maintain an emotional distance between them…at least for the time being, until he felt more certain that he could trust Ianto again.

"We'll get by," Ianto said.

Jack stared into his stormy eyes and saw the enormity of his strength, and despite his intention to remain cautious and guarded, he saw his partner.

His companion.

A gentleman who could be his mate through the years, here on this land, for the rest of their lives. Part of him wanted to stop what was growing inside his heart, but another part of him wanted to cherish it and cultivate it.

Finally surrendering to his desires, he stepped forward and gathered him into his arms. Ianto's body melted into his. He was lithe and warm and oh, so lovely. The day's trials had emptied him of all energy, but as he held his mate, he felt hope and optimism returning.

"Ianto," he whispered in his ear. "There won't be anything left in the morning. The wheat crop will be gone."

Ianto nodded, pressing his face into his chest, wrapping his arms tight around Jack's shoulders.

Instead of the deafening hiss and crackle of firehoppers, Jack heard only the sound of his own breathing, light and slow, and knew he was feeling everything he'd vowed never to feel again—a love he didn't ever want to lose.

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..

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"We should get some sleep," Jack said later, leaning back in his chair as they sat across from each other at the table. "There's no point staying up all night worrying. We're going to have a lot to do tomorrow."

Ianto couldn't bear to face the idea of tomorrow. But when he turned his exhausted mind toward sleep, he realized uncomfortably that they were both inside the house together, both aware of the single, narrow bed. But he couldn't possibly ask him to sleep in the barn. Not tonight. He had already told him so when they sat down.

Uncertain as to what to do, he glanced at Jack and fought the tightening in his chest. They had not shared a bed since their wedding night, and that had turned out to be a disaster. In fact, both times he'd given his body to a man it had caused nothing but despair.

Wouldn't it be better to wait until Jack had forgiven him and gotten over his anger completely? He and Jack had come so far, he did not want to remind him of their painful beginnings and spoil things again.

He realized uneasily that his hands were trembling. He dropped them to his lap to hide them under the table.

Jack stood and scratched his head. "I guess I'll sleep on the floor. The bed's not really big enough for two."

Ianto's shoulders slumped. All his nervous reasoning suddenly seemed silly.

Jack didn't even _want_ to sleep with him.

Ianto rose from the table and sat on the edge of the bed, wishing he had a blanket to cover himself. Jack lay down on the dirt floor beside the table. Within seconds, Janet curled up beside him and Ianto could not help but envy the body heat they were sharing.

Resigning himself to his empty bed, he reached into his bag for his nightshirt and made his own blanket with his travel coats, forcing his mind to fall as quickly as possible into a deep sleep.

.

.

.

.

The next morning, before dawn, Ianto woke to the sound of Janet shaking herself, her ears flapping noisily like a startled pigeon.

Jack had risen and lit the lamp, and was dipping his tin cup into the bucket of water. He gulped it down, and his eyes squeezed shut at the sharp taste.

"I'll make coffee," Ianto offered.

Still wearing his clothes from yesterday he threw off his nightshirt and stood.

He tried to ignore Jack, who watched him while he filled the stove with cow chips.

"Have you been outside yet?" Ianto turned away from him.

"No, and I can't see anything out the window. It's still too dark. Maybe I'll go milk Alice while the coffee's brewing."

"I can do it. It'll take a while for the stove to heat up, anyway."

Jack pulled on his hat and studied him a moment. "We'll both go. Take a look around."

Jack gestured for him to follow. They climbed the steps and reached the door.

Jack lifted the latch, but before he pushed the door open, he turned and looked down at Ianto. "I hope you said another prayer last night."

"I did," he answered.

Slowly, Jack pushed the door open. It was not the sight, but the eerie sound that crushed all hope…a monotonous, deafening buzz that hurt Ianto's ears.

Jack quickly stepped back and shut the door again. He said nothing. He stood there, head bowed, clutching the latch.

Ianto touched his shoulder. "I'm so sorry. I'd hoped they'd be gone by now."

"Me too." His body moved with a sigh. "Do you still want to come to the barn?"

"Yes," Ianto answered, needing to be with him, needing to see what was left of their farm.

Ushering Ianto by the elbow, Jack pulled the door open and stepped outside. He raised his arm to shield their faces from the pesky creatures. A pink haze filled the horizon but barely lit the sky as their feet crunched over the ground. Millions of firehoppers surrounded them, flitting about and feeding hungrily on anything they could find.

Ianto and Jack reached the barn and quickly entered.

The animals were restless, crying and complaining. A number of firehoppers had infested the tiny structure.

Jack lit the lantern and the room brightened.

"Good God," he said, his voice a pale whisper.

Ianto's mouth dropped open in shock.

The bugs had been everywhere, devouring, consuming. The wooden handle of a hoe that stood by the door had been chewed where Jack's sweat had soaked in.

The worn parts of the harness were badly eaten, and the creatures were still feasting on it.

Ropes were cut through and in pieces. An old straw hat which had been left hanging on a post by Alice's stall was in shreds.

Two insects simultaneously beat against Ianto's face. He waved them away while Jack stood staring at the stalls, astonished. The pests were eating the hay. They were crawling around on the horses' backs and scooting through their long manes.

Ianto knew these creatures didn't kill the living, they only feasted on wood and plant matter so it was a shock to see them devouring leather. He had not read anything in the literature about this.

He went to the harness to examine it more closely. Ianto followed. "Can we save it?"

"I think so, but we better take it inside the house." He placed it in his arms. "Is it too heavy for you?"

It was heavier than he expected, but not unmanageable. "I'll be fine."

"Why don't you go inside?" He looked around the barn, the frustration evident in his weary eyes. "I'll milk Alice and then check the crops, but it's not looking good."

Ianto nodded in anguish and left the barn. He walked back to the house with the harness, squinting through the swarm and feeling his hopes sinking fast.

He had come here with a dream of a rewarding farm life, but it seemed that dream would not be granted so easily.

He only hoped, that after all this devastation, Jack wouldn't decide to pack it in.

And pack him off at the same time.


	4. Chapter 4

4

The unwelcome visitors stayed two more days, feasting on the helpless homestead.

Each night, Jack slept on the floor of the dugout with Janet, and Ianto slept uneasily in the bed. Several times he started from his pillow, dreaming that the bugs had invaded his bed.

Then he would discover that the little sod house had kept its promise of shelter.

It had forbidden entry to almost all the enemy insects.

On the third day, Ianto and Jack woke with little hope that the firehoppers would ever leave, but as soon as the sun rose in the sky, the wind shifted.

By noon, the swarm departed as quickly as it had come, leaving nothing but shredded corn stalks and bare fields where wheat had once blown in the wind, like waves on the ocean.

Nothing had survived in the vegetable garden either, the dry soil strewn with dead firehoppers.

The water in the barrels looked like firehopper soup and probably tasted worse. Jack hauled the barrels to the garden and tipped them over, watering the soil and assuring Ianto that the bugs would make good fertilizer for the new crop he'd plant.

That evening, they sat in silence over a dinner of corn meal pancakes and molasses, trying not to think about how they would survive the winter without the profits from the harvest. Ianto just wanted to forget everything for the night and pray that he would someday feel hopeful again.

"What do you think the creek looks like?" he asked, trying to keep his hopes from fading completely.

Jack sipped his coffee, which was the only thing fit to drink that didn't taste like firehoppers. They needed to keep the milk for making butter to sell, though they wouldn't get much for it. "I don't know. I haven't gone down there yet. Why?"

Ianto sighed. "I'd love to take a bath."

"I was just thinking the same thing."

"You were?"

He nodded. "Why don't we walk over after supper?"

They finished eating within minutes, and Ianto cleaned off the table. He untied his apron and draped it over the chair. "Are you ready?"

"I've been ready for three days."

Sharing a much needed chuckle, they climbed the steps and opened the door.

Magenta light struck Ianto in the face as Ianto turned toward the sunset, which seemed to smile at him with bright, swirling clouds.

"Ah," Jack sighed, stopping just outside the house. "Do you feel that?"

Eyes closed, he breathed in the warm, clear evening breeze.

"It's like heaven." Ianto took in another breath of air like a thirst-quenching drink.

Then he noticed Jack staring toward what had once been the wheat field.

Ianto reached out and closed his hand around Jack's. His warmth travelled to his fingers and up his arm, all the way to his heart.

Ianto felt his grip tighten ever so gently. For an instant they were connected in some intangible way, communicating, feeling the same disconcerted emotions and knowing it.

Ianto felt a brief joy in the shared moment and then led Jack forward. They'd come out here to celebrate their freedom from the bugs, not to mourn what they'd lost.

"Let's go see how the creek looks."

They walked across the field, through the dead grass and the leafless stubs of corn, saying nothing. By the time they reached the creek, the rolling plains had swallowed the sun. The sky was a deep shade of royal blue—that rare colour that remains only a few moments before the day surrenders to night.

"It looks pretty clear," Jack said, his voice fringed with surprise as he looked down at the water. It was flowing slowly downstream, gurgling in shallow places, swirling silently in deeper ones.

"Thank the goddess."

Ianto barely had a chance to blink before Jack tossed his jacket over a leafless shrub. He pulled his loose white shirt over his head, and then hopped to keep his balance while he pulled off a boot. "Look away if you have to, 'cause I'm in no mood to worry about your delicate sensibilities. That water looks too inviting."

He dropped both boots onto the ground and reached hurriedly to unfasten his denim trousers. Stunned and wide-eyed, Ianto watched him step out of his pants. The darkness dulled any image of him, and he wasn't certain if the knots in his belly were tightening because he was thankful or disappointed.

The next instant, a tremendous splash cut through the quiet dusk.

"Aaaah!" he called out as he resurfaced. Brisk waves splashed onto the bank, forcing Ianto back.

Jack flicked his wet hair, shooting bullets of water upward to the sky. "Come on in. It feels great."

He was treading water, watching and waiting for him to undress.

Stalling for a moment, Ianto unbuttoned his shirt, but then hesitated, holding it closed. Hot nerves knotted tightly in his stomach. He'd never undressed like this in front of a man before.

Jack did a backstroke away from him but kept his eyes fixed.

Embarrassed at having to ask, but even more afraid of what would happen if he didn't, he met his gaze. "Would you mind looking away?"

Ianto felt his cheeks suddenly flame red and hated them for it.

Jack stopped swimming. For a moment, he seemed to hold back a response and then he replied. "Yeah, I _would_ mind. And don't look so shocked. We're married, aren't we?"

His tone was playful, which relaxed him a bit, but not entirely.

"Fine," he said, trying not to sound apprehensive. He pulled his shirt off his shoulders, deciding then and there that he would swim in his singlet and boxers.

They needed laundering anyway and wash day wasn't until Friday.

Feeling self-conscious under his husband's steady gaze, he removed his boots. Next he stepped out of his trousers and draped them neatly on top of his coat.

In a hurry to hide within the water's dark shelter, he waded in to his waist then gently dove under. Cool freshness enveloped him.

The muffled sound of water in his ears blocked out everything else.

He felt all his problems rinsing away….

Upward he came, in a speedy flight. Shattering the silence, he broke through the surface and sucked the clean air into his lungs.

Satin droplets tickled his face and neck. "Ahh."

"Feels great, doesn't it? I could stay in here forever."

They swam around each other a while, enjoying the silence.

"What are we going to do?" Ianto asked, after they'd had a chance to enjoy the moment.

Jack pushed his wet hair back from his face. "I can plant fall wheat, but that won't do us any good until we harvest it in November, and it won't be enough to keep us in provisions all winter."

"Is there nothing else we can do?"

He swam closer. "I've been thinking about that…."

His hesitation raised Ianto's doubts.

"I could find work in a planetary gang for harvest season, assuming they haven't been hit by bugs. I could wire my pay back here and—"

"And leave me behind?" Ianto broke in sharply.

"It would only be for a few months."

"A few months! No. Absolutely not."

He would have thought his outburst would displease him. After all who was he to decide what should be done? Oddly enough, a twinkle of moonlight reflected in his eyes and revealed a trace of delight.

Delight?

Watching him, Ianto dropped deeper into the water until it touched his ears.

"We'll need the money for winter supplies and food," he said. "We don't even have any blankets and it gets plumb frigid out here in February."

Ianto wanted to sink beneath the surface and drift aimlessly through the water's blackness.

He didn't want to think about Jack leaving him alone.

"Ianto?" He swam a little closer.

"Could I go with you?"

He tilted his head to the side, his expression apologetic. "No. I'd be sleeping in a bunkhouse, most likely. Besides, you'd have to take care of things here."

The thought had barely settled in his mind before Ianto realized what it meant.

He would miss him.

He would long for him.

He watched Jack dive below, then almost immediately re-surface and throw his hair back.

"I don't want you to go," he said, matter-of-factly.

Jack paused, his eyes brimming with wonder. "I don't see any other solution."

Maybe it was affection, maybe it was desperation, but whatever it was, it found an answer. "I know one. I'll sell my gold necklace."

Jack frowned at him. "I can't let you do that."

"Why not? I don't need it out here. I'd rather do without it than do without you. Will you just _think_ about it?"Ianto begged.

Jack swam closer. "No, you won't be selling it. I won't let you. You deserve to have something fine."

 _But I do have something fine._

They gazed into each other's eyes for a moment and then Jack set his feet on the creek bottom and touched Ianto's cheek. His fingers wandered to his earlobe.

"Even with everything that's happened, I feel lucky tonight." His strong arms came around Ianto, and Ianto felt the evidence of Jack's arousal.

Something tingled in the pit of Ianto's stomach. He remembered how Jack had touched him on their wedding night and realized he desperately wanted to feel him loving him that way again. To be held in his arms.

Had he forgiven him at last he wondered hopefully, shivering when Jack's lips touched his.

Ianto's feet, rooted to the soft, muddy creek bottom, suddenly lifted. He squeezed Jack's broad shoulders while he guided Ianto's legs to straddle him.

In his arms, Ianto felt as light as a leaf floating in the water. He wasn't sure what to do next so he followed his desires and locked his ankles together around Jack' waist.

There in his embrace, he felt secure and safe from everything. Ianto let his cheek rest on Jack's shoulder. Droplets of water tickled his skin, sending waves of desire through his body. A delicate thread of intimacy was taking shape between them, and he feared if he let him go, it would snap and transport them back to the beginning.

And more than anything, he wanted to go forward.

"Ianto," Jack whispered, leaving a trail of kisses across his face. He kissed his nose, eyelids, then covered his mouth with his.

Ianto squeezed his tightly legs around him as their lips met. Was this truly happening?

He spun them slowly through the water, Jack's hands grazing up and down his back.

Ianto cupped his strong, stubbly jaw and deepened their kiss, not knowing how long this would last, but wanting to enjoy it for as long as it did.

His breathing intensified, his hand moved quickly to unfasten the tiny buttons at the neck of his singlet. The soft contact made him gasp—it was all happening so fast.

Jack pulled back. "Do you want this or no?"

"I do."

"Are you certain?"

Jack aroused his senses in a way he had never known, yet he was frightened at the same time. The last time they had come together this way, it had not ended well.

Would it be different this time?

"I'm sure. I'm just nervous."

"Why? You've done this before."

Ianto's arousal skidded to an abrupt halt. He knew it was the truth, but he had used it to hurt him.

To make him remember that he had not been a virgin on their wedding night.

Ianto felt himself soft to go flaccid between them and he stood once more, releasing Jack of his clutch.

"Ianto," he said. "I didn't mean that like it sounded. I'm sorry."

All of a sudden, Ianto just wanted to go home.

Back to the dugout.

He couldn't even look at Jack, knowing how he still felt about him. He had so wanted his respect and had thought he'd earned it over the past few days.

Swallowing, he watched Jack wade out of the water, his nude body a work of art in the darkness. "We should go back."

Ianto waded out of the creek, hugging himself, his teeth chattering.

After they were both dressed, Jack took Ianto's arm and helped him up the creek bank, but all Jack's gentlemanly courtesies could not mask how he truly saw him, and how wretched it made Ianto feel.


	5. Chapter 5

5

Leading his mate across the prickly, ravaged field, Jack wondered in the darkness if this marriage would ever work.

He wanted to kick himself for what he'd said down at the creek.

He couldn't deny that he had said it to hurt Ianto. A part of him still thought he must care for the man who had loved him first. Why wouldn't he? It was hardly more than a month.

Jack tightened his grip on Ianto's slender arm, leading him around a pile of shredded corn stalks. They walked in a cloud of uneasy silence, the moon lighting their way.

When they walked into the barn yard, Jack finally let him go. Head down, Ianto quickened his pace to the house and went inside.

Jack stopped and watched the tiny window brighten with a warm, flickering glow. He turned toward the barn—his bed until the bugs had come. He turned back to the little dugout.

What should he do?

Where should he sleep tonight?

He remembered holding Ianto in his arms only minutes ago, the way his soft, lush body had curved into his. He remembered two nights ago, on his hands and knees in the field beside him, cutting corn stalks. He'd been fearless.

Everything he could have wanted in a mate.

He gazed up at the dark sky, breathed in the clean scent of the prairie, and felt a chill. His hair was still wet.

Autumn would soon arrive.

Burying his hands deep in his pockets, he stood outside a while longer, kicking at the dirt and then walked to the dugout. If he could find the courage, he would ask Ianto if he would let him sleep indoors tonight.

Ianto sat on the edge of the bed, drying his hair after getting dry clothes on. The fire in the stove burned and crackled, the golden lantern light flickered, but the dugout seemed empty and cold. Then the door creaked open and Jack walked in.

Ianto stared up at him in dismay, but oh, so happy to see him. He had expected him to stay in the barn tonight.

"Hi again," Jack said, hesitating on the top step.

Ianto hadn't realized how tense he was until that instant when his shoulders relaxed and he exhaled lightly. "Hi. I'm glad you're here."

"Are you? Even after what I said at the creek?" Slowly, he descended the steps.

"Would you like something to eat?" Ianto asked. "I could get a—"

Jack stopped him with a raised hand. "Please, Ianto. We should talk."

His gut churned at Jack's words.

"All right," he replied, praying this wasn't going to be painful.

He sauntered toward him in that slow, appealing way that he had of moving. His good looks and virility were always such a distraction, even in a moment like this.

"You had every right to be angry earlier. What I said was wrong."

Ianto blinked in surprise.

"You didn't deserve that," he continued, staring down at him with wonder.

"I just want to be a good mate," Ianto explained, his voice shaky. " _Your_ mate. I wish I could rewrite everything that happened to me before I met you."

Jack exhaled sharply with regret, then took him by the hand, led him to the bed, and they both sat down.

"But you can't rewrite the past and neither can I." He looked down at their joined hands and ran his thumb over Ianto's for a moment, as if thinking about something.

Ianto's whole body warmed at the sensation.

Without looking up, he added, "Even if I could, I wouldn't. It might change what I've got now."

Ianto stared wordlessly at him, barely able to comprehend all this.

"I know we had a rough start, Ianto, but I'd like to put it behind us, if you're willing." He turned his small hand over in his strong one, lacing his fingers through them. "It's true neither of us got what we expected. I know you wanted someone more… _polished_. I saw it in your eyes the first time you looked at me."

Ianto wet his lips, surprised and saddened that he'd noticed.

"And I wanted someone plain," he went on. "Instead, I got you—and you're the farthest thing from plain."

"You also wanted someone who wouldn't lie to you," Ianto said.

He paused then nodded. "That's over and done with. We have a life here now, and we need each other. I don't know what I would have done the past few days without you. You may not have been what I expected in some ways, but in other ways, you've been the best mate I could ever ask for."

Feeling his eyes flood with tears of joy—and fear at the same time—Ianto touched his cheek.

 _There was still so much Jack did not know. It filled Ianto with terror._

Jack kissed his hand—a kiss filled with affection and respect. His hands moved sensually along the inside of Ianto's forearm, and he could barely breathe.

"You've been trying to be a good mate to me," Jack said, his voice husky and low.

"But I haven't been a good husband to you. I want to change that." He slowly leaned in, and his lips brushed gracefully over Ianto's.

It seemed as if Ianto's dreams, one by one, were all coming true. All that he'd ever wanted….

Jack deepened the kiss and eased them down onto the bed.

Butterflies danced in Ianto's gut as Jack's tongue explored his mouth.

Gently, Jack rolled on top and their bodies melded together. With soft, warm lips, he seared a path down his neck, over his shoulders and across to the top button on his shirt.

"May I take this off you?" he asked, his eyes burning with desire.

Ianto tried to control the pulsing knot of sexual yearning in his groin, but gave up the effort, nodding his permission.

Jack unbuttoned it and pressed it open to reveal his t-shirt and singlet.

He dropped tender kisses along the line of Ianto's collar bone. His breath was warm and moist against his chest, and Ianto's blood blazed with fire.

"There are so many ways I want to touch you," he whispered. "Things are going to be different from now on, I promise you that."

Reclaiming his lips, Ianto smothered all talk.

Jack's hand slid down to Ianto's thigh and rested there a moment then he got to his feet.

Ianto leaned up on both elbows while Jack stripped off his shirt and draped it over the chair, revealing his muscled, sun-bronzed chest and powerful arms.

Then he unfastened his trousers and stood before him like a god—the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

The sight of him in the golden, flickering lamplight stole Ianto's breath and all but paralyzed him.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and slid Ianto's shirt off his shoulders, then proceeded to remove his t-shirt, leaving him in only his singlet and pants.

"Why don't you roll onto your front?" he suggested. "Let me rub your back."

When warm fingers touched the small of his back, he quivered.

"Relax," Jack whispered, his hands rubbing the muscles on either side of Ianto's spine. "You worked hard the last few days."

With smooth strokes, he massaged the aching back and shoulders.

Ianto hadn't realized until now how sore and tired his body was, but none of that seemed to matter when he knew Jack was sitting on his bed, completely nude, leaving him starving to touch him.

Or to feel the substantial weight of that incredible muscled body upon his once more.

Ianto closed his eyes and sighed.

Time slowed to a surreal pace as his strong, generous hands worked over the flesh of his mate. Then he kissed the back of Ianto's neck and he tingled all over.

With an exploding desire he could barely contain, Ianto rolled over, onto his back, to face him. He wrapped his arms around Jack's neck and pulled him down for a kiss.

Jack's tongue plunged into his mouth and Ianto wanted to devour him whole. He whimpered a protest when Jack pulled away to tug his pants over his hips and toss it to the floor.

Now he was completely naked as well.

At last, he lowered his weight fully upon him, and Ianto writhed impatiently on the bed.

"Please," Ianto whispered, not even sure what he was pleading for as the word escaped his lips.

Jack's mouth was hot and wet as he kissed Ianto's chest and his belly like a starving man as he used his hands to stroke their straining manhoods between them and arouse Ianto's senses to a feverish peak.

His big, muscled thigh came between Ianto's and pushed them apart.

"I'm sorry, Ianto, I can't wait," Jack whispered desperately in his ear then he entered him in a swift, deep, soul-reaching thrust.

"Oh, Goddess," Jack sighed, as they moved together in the dim light, thrusting and heaving until sensations surged to a blinding peak and Ianto's body tensed with unexpected spasms.

Jack squeezed him and kissed him then he laid his palms on the bed, on either side of Ianto's shoulders, and rose up to look down at him. His flop of hair fell forward. Ianto reached out to push it back and then met his heated gaze, so full of desire.

Soon, he bowed his head and Ianto lost sight of his eyes behind his hair as he shuddered and groaned with ecstasy. A few seconds later, he collapsed on top of him, hot and slick with sweat.

"I feel so close to you," Jack whispered passionately in his ear. "On our wedding night, I didn't know you."

He looked into Ianto's eyes. "But now I do, and everything will be different. I promise I'll be a better husband."

But as his lips came down to brush lightly, Ianto realized miserably that he still did not know him.

Not at all.

If he did, the feelings and passions that had grown between them would surely die.

Ianto's heart wrenched.

He could not let that happen.

Even if it meant lying to Jack for the rest of their lives.

Jack's mouth closed over Ianto's, and he decided with staunch determination that he would _never_ know the truth.

He would carry his secret to the grave—that Lisant had been far more than just a lover to him.

And Heaven help him, if Lisant ever learned that he'd revealed their crimes to anyone much less married someone else.

He would spare nothing to hunt him down. Both he and Jack would be in danger.

The whole wicked truth would come spilling out, and the world would know that he was not a sweet, wholesome mail-order mate.

He was a terrible sinner and a criminal who deserved to be punished.

For he … Ianto Gareth Harkness, had knowingly married a man when he was still married to another.


	6. Chapter 6

6

The next morning, Ianto woke beneath Jack's coat, the wool tickling his nose.

He stretched his arms over his head and yawned, noticing that his own long coat was draped over his legs like a blanket. Sometime during the night, Jack must have covered him.

His kindness caused Ianto a terrible twinge of guilt.

He remembered the day he had answered his advertisement for a mate and how he had not revealed his true situation.

He had not wanted to admit to himself back then that he was being dishonest. His marriage to Lisant was irrelevant, he'd told himself.

Legally, it did not exist.

But he doubted Jack would be much interested in the legalities.

He'd only care that he had kept something else from him.

He covered his face with a hand and squeezed his eyes shut. He had not known Lisant at all when he'd agreed to marry him. He had been so naïve, so lonely after his parents died and he'd only wanted to be loved by someone again.

If only he had been stronger, able to take care of himself, like he was now.

He hoped he was strong enough to live with this dishonesty.

Ianto buried his face in the pillow.

He hadn't counted on falling in love with a man who valued honesty and trust more than a pretty face.

He would never forgive himself for lying to Jack, but he'd had no choice from the beginning. Lisant was a dangerous man. There's no telling what he might have done if he'd told him he wanted out of their unpleasant arrangement.

And now…

If he found out that someone knew the truth…

He couldn't put Jack's life at risk.

If anything ever happened to him….

Somehow, he would have to find the strength to continue living this lie, no matter how much it killed him inside.

.

.

.

.

A short time later, Ianto rose from bed, pulled on his clothes and lit the stove.

As soon as the fire was roaring, he climbed the steps to go outside and fill the coffee pot with water. A warm shiver coursed through him. Despite everything, he could still feel the pleasure of Jack's touch, the joy of being held in his arms the night before, and the eroticism of his kiss.

As he dipped the pot into the barrel, the cool liquid touched his fingers and he was intensely aware of physical sensations…the bright sunlight on his cheeks, the smell of cows and horses and pigs, the cold wetness on his hand.

Life was full of miracles, he realized, admiring the sunrise as he returned to the house.

Even for those who did not deserve them.

He was just preparing to go out and milk Alice when Jack walked in carrying a bucket.

His heart quickened at the sight of him. Hair dishevelled around his face with a smatter of whiskers, and a smile moving across those gorgeous, seductive lips.

He couldn't prevent a surge of arousal as he remembered how those lips had kissed him the night before, and _where_ they had kissed him….

"Good morning," Jack said, setting the bucket down, the rope handle dropping silently. With two long strides, he approached Ianto, backed him up against the sod wall and swept him weightlessly into his arms.

His mouth covered Ianto's and he responded with parted lips, sliding his hands up under the thick hair at Jack's nape and into marvellous warmth there.

His kiss fired through Ianto's veins and thawed the morning chill still lingering in his bones. By the time Jack came away, Ianto felt dazed and overheated.

"Good morning," Ianto sputtered, fighting to keep his balance.

"I brought you some milk." He walked to the bed and examined it. "You know, I think what's left of the corn stalks would be perfect for a bigger mattress."

The idea of a bigger bed breathed new life into Ianto's tired spirit, knowing that Jack intended to share the bed with him from now on. Dreams could come true, he thought again, but realized with some discontent that he did not feel _completely_ happy.

Perhaps one day, he would be able to forget.

They moved to the table and Jack sat down.

"Bread?" Ianto asked, snatching his thoughts back to where they were needed. "Or I could make cornmeal griddle cakes if you feel like waiting for me to gather some eggs."

"That sounds delicious."

Ianto dug into the bag of meal but turned when Janet barked outside he looked questioningly at Jack, who rose and climbed the steps.

"Mickey!" he called from the door. "Good to see you!"

Thrilled to be receiving his first guest since he'd arrived at the homestead, Ianto wiped his hands on a towel and hurried up the steps to greet their neighbour.

Mickey sat high in the skipper seat, rubbing his dark beard. Although happy to see him, Ianto felt mildly disappointed that Martha hadn't accompanied him.

"Hello, Ianto," he said, touching the brim of his straw hat. He set the brake and hopped down, giving Janet a quick pat on the head.

"Have you had breakfast, Mickey?" he asked. "I'm just about to cook up some griddle cakes if you'd like some."

"Appreciate the offer but I just finished a meal and I can't stay long. I'm on my way to Boeshane." He turned to Jack. "I see you didn't escape the swarm."

Ianto stood and listened for a moment, but retreated into the house when the men decided to walk into the field to survey the damage.

He worried about Martha, unable to imagine how it would feel to be a mother without food for her children.

Ianto decided to go and visit as soon as he could.

About a half-hour later, Jack came into the house and walked to the far corner.

"Mickey's heading into town now," he said, pulling the bed out from the wall.

"What are you doing?" Ianto asked.

He crouched down and lifted a small tin box out of a hole in the floor. "I'm giving him some money to buy seed for fall wheat."

Ianto watched him rifle through the box, then set it back in the hole and pull the bed over it.

"I didn't think we had any money," he mentioned.

He stopped and looked at him. "We don't. I mean, this is it and it's going with

Mickey."

Jack approached him. "What's wrong?"

He dropped his gaze to the floor. "Nothing. I just hope everything will be all right. What if something happens to this crop, too?"

"Don't worry," he replied, kissing his cheek.

"But if something does happen, what will we do?"

He touched his arm. "We'll get by."

"But I don't want you to go away."

He touched his shoulder. "I won't go. I promise. Everything will be fine."

Despite his fears, he was his husband and he had to trust him.

As Jack walked out the door to give Mickey their only savings, at least the only savings he knew about, Ianto wondered with an aching heart how much money they could get for his mother's fine gold chain.

He prayed it wouldn't come to that.

.

.

.

.

The match whisked and flared between Jack's finger and thumb.

Slowly, watching it burn, he touched it to the chips in the stove. Within seconds, the fire caught and he closed the door.

He turned to look at Ianto in the dim lamplight, lying back on the bed, waiting expectantly for him.

"My God, you are so beautiful," he whispered, wondering how he could ever have wished Ianto to be plain. He was perfect just the way he was—his dark curls around his face, his full lips moist and parted, his sweet cheeks flushed.

Jack sauntered toward him grinning, a ripple of anticipation moving through him. He would undress him again, piece by piece, and enjoy every minute of it.

He would enjoy every minute of the rest of their lives.

 _Good God, did he care for him that much?_

He stopped and paused, pulse thrumming in his head. He wasn't ready to feel so much, so fast.

"Is something wrong?" Ianto asked, leaning up on one elbow.

Startled, he smothered his fears and walked to the bed. "No, nothing at all. I just wanted to look at you. Why don't I remove your boots?"

He sat at the foot of the bed and untied the laces, then pulled each one off and set them lightly on the floor. "And your socks…."

In a few seconds, he was rubbing his calves and massaging his small, delicate feet.

"That feels nice," Ianto said, leaning up on his elbows again. "But why are you being so good to me?"

He grinned. "What makes you think I'm not enjoying this?"

Pressing his thumbs into the silky arch of Ianto's foot, he massaged in tiny circles. "Pleasure for you is pleasure for me."

Ianto tilted his pretty head to the side, considering his answer. "I didn't think it was like that for an alpha."

"Well, maybe you learned from the wrong man."

Ianto paled, and he went still, realizing he'd once again said the wrong thing.

Several seconds of uncomfortable silence filtered between them.

"I suppose I did," Ianto finally said, lying back. "But I believe the _right_ man is going to teach me everything I didn't know, and then I will know what I've been missing."

Ianto's words reassured him, and Jack felt a strange, soft comfort. They'd come a long way since their first day on the prairie. There was forgiveness between them now.

He set his hands back to work, massaging those lovely feet.

Later that night as they were making love, their bodies moving together in exquisite harmony, Jack felt a tension mount as his body arched in a burning release.

He needed Ianto so much more than he'd ever intended. He felt a sudden urge to resist it, to fight it, because he feared the inevitable loss of him, as he'd lost so many others he cared about.

How long would it be before he surrendered to it and let go of his fears?

Exhausted and confused, he collapsed on top of Ianto who squeezed him tightly, nibbling at his earlobe.

"Was that good?" Ianto asked innocently.

"Yes, my angel."

Jack told himself to enjoy him, to let himself fall in love with him. He was his mate, after all.

He buried his face in Ianto's hair. "But satisfied only for a short time, I think. Then I might like to do that again."

"I was thinking exactly the same thing," he answered breathlessly, and Jack held him closer than he'd ever held anyone.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

A week later, pale gray clouds settled over the prairie, their cottony textures seeming near enough to touch. The air was heavy and uncommonly still, the distant horizon shrouded in mist.

Ianto walked back from the barn carrying a bucket of fresh milk, and feeling the prickly rope-handle dig into his palm.

Breathing fast, he struggled not to spill any of his precious cargo. He would set the bucket out over night to let the cream rise to the top, then wear himself out making yet another batch of butter to trade for wool blankets.

"Come, Janet!" he called over his shoulder as he reached the door to the dugout. "It looks like rain."

The dog trotted out of the chicken coop, creating a flurry of feathery commotion and clucking, and her cheerful wagging tail swept Ianto's ankle as she passed by.

Inside and down the steps, the house seemed darker than usual for this time of day, the clouds stealing what light could normally sneak into the tiny dwelling. Ianto set down his bucket and rubbed his reddened palm.

He looked around the empty house and decided to light the lantern to avoid straining his eyes.

Janet yawned and stretched out next to the unlit stove.

As he struck the match and touched the flame to the lantern wick, Ianto reminded himself to purchase matches before winter came.

And more lamp oil.

Oh, how would his paltry butter collection pay for everything if something happened to the fall wheat? There was no chance he'd be able to churn enough to save him from selling his mother's gold.

But he would if he had to.

He glanced curiously at the bed made of narrow tree stumps, wondering if the box beneath it contained any money besides what Jack had given to Mickey.

Strange, that his husband had not mentioned the box before, but he supposed he had never mentioned much of anything at all.

Until very recently, that is.

Thanks to a swarm of bugs.

He sat on the chair, still staring at the bed, trying to decide if he could move it himself.

But would that be snooping?

Would that be a breach of trust?

Not that there was much trust to breach in the first place, but there was something growing, no matter how small or fragile.


	7. Chapter 7

7

Janet whimpered and Ianto jumped.

He turned to see her staring at him, her dark eyes wide and her head tilting.

"What are you looking at?" he asked, feeling guilty over something he hadn't even done.

Thunder rumbled outside and Ianto rose from his chair, absent-mindedly smoothing the creases in his shirt. Thinking not a moment longer about trust and guilt, he moved toward the bed and closed his palms around the rough tree bark that covered the bed frame.

His back complained when he lifted it, inching it out from the sod wall.

He felt Janet's judgmental glare, and reminded himself that she was just a dog.

When he pulled the bed out far enough, he saw the tin box sitting discreetly in the square hole.

Odd, that he had not known of its existence a week ago having slept above it all this time.

His stomach did a quick flip and he found himself glancing nervously at the door.

If it had begun to rain, Jack may decide to return early from ploughing the field.

Not that it mattered, he told himself. he wasn't doing anything wrong. He only wanted to know how much money they had so he could plan their trip to town and prepare a list of supplies.

Forcing himself to ignore the nervous contraction in his belly, he crouched down on his knees between the bed and the wall, lifted the cold tin box, and set it on the mattress.

he stared briefly at the tarnished tin, back at the door, then back at the box

again.

Slowly, tentatively, he raised the lid.

The small, rusty hinges squeaked, and Janet trotted over to sniff what was inside. Ianto looked down at a few buttons sitting on top of some papers. Reaching in and unfolding them, he discovered the deed to the property and a few old grocery bills marked paid.

Feeling a little foolish for having been so curious about nothing, he moved to replace the papers. It was then that he noticed a small blue velvet bag with a drawstring tucked into the corner of the box.

Janet dropped her furry chin to rest on his outstretched arm, watching closely as he withdrew the bag and inserted two fingers to open it and feel what was inside.

He touched something cold and hard, and pulled it out.

Eyes wide with disbelief, he stared at the sparkling discovery…a jewel necklace undoubtedly worth far more than his mother's chain. A large oval gemstone surrounded by tiny diamond sapphires was set into a teardrop-shaped setting of gold, suspended on a shiny gold chain.

Ianto held the exquisite object between his fingers, feeling his pulse soar at the sheer beauty of it, as it reflected the golden flame from the lantern.

Janet whimpered again and he patted the soft fur on her head.

"What's the matter, girl?" he asked, knowing she sensed his uneasiness and wanting to convince her everything was all right.

But in all honesty, it wasn't.

What was this necklace doing here and why hadn't Jack mentioned it? They were literally sleeping on a fortune…a fortune that could see them through the winter and probably the following winter, too.

He squeezed his eyes shut, wanting to believe there was a good reason he hadn't mentioned it or offered to sell it instead of his chain. Perhaps it was made of paste and worth nothing.

No.

Most likely it was a treasured family heirloom.

he opened his eyes and looked down at it, deciding immediately that it had to be genuine. Only true gemstones could sparkle so beautifully, so brilliantly.

Then something clicked in his mind.

With a growing sense of dread, he slid his fingers back into the velvet bag and pulled out a small card.

 _To Gwen._

 _Love forever, Jack_.

Jack had told Martha and Mickey that he'd sold the necklace, but in truth, he had kept it.

Why?

To hold onto the memory of his first love?

Or perhaps he thought she'd come back to him one day.

Ianto shuddered. He had loved this other woman.

She would have been his first choice—if he'd had one.

Ianto sat back on his heels. Janet lay down beside him, resting her chin on her paws and staring up at him.

he ran his fingertip over the jewels.

How had Jack given this to Gwen? Had he knelt down on one knee and proposed at that moment, or had he held her in his arms and kissed her and felt like he would never love anyone else that way again?

He stared blankly across the room and thought of the day his mother gave him the chin. It was Ianto's thirteenth birthday. he had felt like a gentleman that day.

For the first time.

He gazed once more at the inscription. _Love forever…_

Did Jack think his memories were worth more than Ianto's?

The pettiness in him wanted to throw the necklace straight at him as soon as he walked through the door. But no, that would not do, he decided. He was not a hysterical person and neither was he. Jack had not thrown anything at him on their wedding night when he'd made a similar discovery about Ianto's past experience.

He'd simply walked out.

Maybe there was a reasonable explanation for this, and for why he hadn't told him about it when he'd offered his chain to keep him from leaving him to work in Veltos.

Carefully, he dropped the necklace back into the tiny velvet bag, pulled the drawstring closed, and returned everything to its proper hiding place. As he pushed the bed back up against the wall, he knew he must let this foolish jealousy settle a bit, and like a sensible adult, he would simply ask Jack about it when he returned.

.

.

.

.

Ianto leaned over the butter churn and forcefully (too forcefully perhaps) pumped the smooth wooden handle in and out.

His back was going to pay for this tomorrow, but he couldn't help it. He needed to work off some tension somehow.

His arms soon felt like they were going to fall off.

Straightening to rest for a second or two, he glanced down at Janet, stretched out on the floor at his feet.

He remembered the hectic days in his old life back in the restaurant in Delvon Prime, when the other server would quit or walk out. Most of them had after a short while leaving Ianto to tend all the tables by himself.

At least here, Lisant couldn't wander in any time he pleased, sit at his kitchen table, and expect him to wait on him.

he tightened his clammy grip on the churn handle and pumped it again.

If he could handle Lisant and get himself out of that mess, he could confront a husband about a necklace.

Janet raised her head and perked her ears, drawing Ianto's attention away from that thought. Hearing a skipper, he glanced out the dust-covered window and saw Mickey, Martha, and their children. Though he was happy to see them, a part of him wished they had chosen a different day.

Janet barked and darted out the door.

Ianto pushed curls away from his forehead and wiped the perspiration from his nose and cheeks. He would try to forget his problems for now.

He walked up the steps and outside into the sunny afternoon. "Martha. Mickey. How wonderful to see you."

Mickey helped his mate down from the skipper seat, and as soon as her feet touched ground, she strode to Ianto and clasped both his hands. "I've been after Mickey to let me come calling. It's dreadful what happened to our farms, but we will survive. You'll see."

Ianto nodded politely, hoping it was true.

"Janet!" Tosh shouted.

Tail wagging the dog paced back and forth in front of the skipper.

Mickey lifted Tosh out while Owen hopped down on his own. Ianto smiled as he watched them stroke Janet's golden fur and nearly crush her with hugs.

"Please, come in. I'll put on a pot of coffee. And I hope you'll all stay for supper."

Martha smiled and followed, but Mickey stayed behind.

"That sounds mighty neighbourly," he replied. "If you mates will excuse me, though, I think I'll head out to the field to see how Jack's doing."

He climbed back into the skipper and drove away.

The children took off with Janet, laughing and chasing her around the yard in circles.

"They'll tire out soon enough," Martha mentioned, her arm looped through Ianto's. "But until then, let's enjoy the silence indoors."

They went into the dark little house. "Oh, my," Martha commented. "You've made quite a difference here. I knew you would, but I see you've given up on your window."

Ianto looked sheepishly toward the dirty panes. With all his work, he'd forgotten to wipe them these last few days. "With the wind, it gets dirty so fast, and I just haven't had time to—"

Martha held up a hand to hush him. "Please, do not apologize. I know what it's like."

She picked up a wet cloth from the table, went outside and scrubbed off the dust. Welcome sunlight beamed into the house.

"What you need is a little helper or two," she said, returning. "Things will get easier when you have children old enough to take over some of your chores."

Still thinking about Gwen's necklace beneath the bed, Ianto replied, "I'm sure you're right. Why don't we sit down?"

Martha sat and dug into her bag. "I have something for you. Mickey returned from town this morning and it's our habit to pick up the mail for the entire vicinity."

She pulled out a letter and handed it over.

A warning voice whispered in Ianto's head as he reached for it. Who would write to him?

No one knew he was here.

There must be some mistake. But when he accepted the tattered envelope, he saw it was addressed to Ianto Jones.

His maiden name.

Cold fingers of fear slowly crept up his neck.

he'd snuck away from her old life without even informing his employer.

This letter could only be one person, determined enough to search for him, and find him.

he ran his finger over the tidy, familiar penmanship. All it said was, "Ianto Jones, Boeshane City, Boeshane Peninsular."

How could he open this in front of Martha? What would he tell her?

Ianto walked toward the window, keeping his back to his neighbour, fighting the panic that took his breath. he hesitated, then gently tore open the seal and began to read.

 _My dearest Ianto,_

 _I don't know if you'll ever receive this. All I know is that your ticket took you as far as Boeshane City. The Transporter master was kind enough to help me._

 _My heart forces me to write to you, regardless of where you may have travelled beyond Boeshane. Why, my dear? Why did you leave? And why so far away? What are you hoping to find in such untried country? Who there could give you the things you deserve? Fine things, for a fine gentleman. That's what you were meant for._

 _Please, love, come home to me. Couldn't we put that misunderstanding behind us?_

 _I know you love me. You said so in your vows. And surely I don't need to remind you what will happen if you've betrayed me. Come home, Ianto. Come home to me before I am forced to come there and fetch you._

 _Your truest love,_

 _Lisant_

Numb with shock, Ianto folded the letter. He stared unblinking out the window at the frolicking children, hearing their muffled laughter, as if it came from a distant world.

A hand on his shoulder startled him.

"Ianto, my dear. Is it bad news?"

He was breaking out in a sweat.

His head was throbbing as he tried to find an answer to Martha's question. "No, everything's fine. I…I was just churning butter before you arrived, and I must have worked a little too hard. I feel a bit dizzy."

Martha led him to a chair. "Perhaps you should sit."

Ianto knew his friend was right. If he didn't get off his feet, his knees might buckle and he might collapse to the floor.

But when he sat down the tension in his neck and shoulders failed to leave him.

The pulsing of rushing blood continued to pound inside his ears.

"Is that better?" Martha asked.

Ianto could barely respond. He didn't know what to do. His hand trembled as he stuffed the letter back into the envelope. He wanted to burn it now, but he couldn't.

Not in front of Martha.

"Tell me, Ianto, what is it?"

"It's nothing. Just a note from my old employer. It seems he wants me back." He laughed nervously and slid the letter under the pot of flowers on the table.

"The patrons must have adored you."

Feeling flustered, Ianto stood up again, but realized immediately that Martha noticed his sudden restlessness. Searching for something to do, Ianto stoked the stove.

"Do you need help?" Martha asked.

"No, I'm fine." he wiped her hands on his apron. "Would you like some coffee?"

"That would be nice, thank you."

While Ianto moved around the kitchen, he couldn't help but sense that Martha knew something was wrong. After sitting in silence for a moment, Martha began to talk about the bugs.

Ianto nodded and tried to respond accordingly, hoping he hadn't driven a sharp wedge into this blossoming friendship.

Ianto finally served the coffee and sat down again, finding it difficult to ignore the letter that was screaming at him from under the flower pot.

He couldn't let Jack find out.

He couldn't drag him into this.

Jack would try to do something about it with no idea who he was up against.

Lisant would kill him.

He had to figure out a way to solve this problem on his own. In the meantime, he would simply have to burn that letter.


	8. Chapter 8

8

Holding the soft leather reins in his hands and resting his elbows on his knees, Jack steered his creaky cart into the yard.

Behind him, he could hear Mickey's team rolling in, the horses nickering and jangling their harness as they came to a stop.

With Mickey's help, Jack had ploughed more field than he'd expected. He decided just this once to quit early. Besides, Mickey had brought his fiddle.

Tosh and Owen came darting out of the house, shouting, "They're back! They're back!"

"Hello there!" Jack called out.

Little Tosh ran straight into her pa's arms while Owen ran toward Jack and grasped Gem's bridle, eager as usual to help in some way.

"How about unhitching the team, Owen?" Jack suggested.

As he hopped down from the cart and landed with a thud in the dirt, he couldn't mistake the pride and excitement in the young boy's face.

Just then, the mates' melodic voices emerged from the house. He turned.

Something happened inside him in that moment—a sudden burst of joy, an unexpected contentment.

He couldn't take his eyes off Ianto, who bent forward to pick up little dark haired Tosh, then approached him with the wee girl straddling his hips.

One day, Ianto would be the dam of his children. He wondered if that time would come sooner than he thought. He'd just have to wait and see….

"How was your day?" Ianto asked.

"It was excellent."

For some reason, he wouldn't look at Jack. Instead, he watched Martha speak to Mickey.

Jack took Tosh into his arms. "What do we have here? A little mermaid?"

Tosh giggled and planted a wet, smacking kiss on his cheek.

"Why thank you, Miss Tosh," he replied, chivalrously. "I was waiting for that."

"You need to shave!" she blurted out, rubbing her tiny soft hand over his stubbly chin.

Martha marched over. "Tosh! You shouldn't say such things!"

Martha smiled playfully at Jack as she took the child from his arms. "Hello, Jack," she greeted, touching her cheek to his. "It's nice to see you. Did Ianto tell you we brought a letter?"

Jack looked at Ianto whose face went pale. "No, he didn't. Not yet, I mean."

"My old employer," Ianto said, too quickly. "The restaurant is busy and…."

He stopped talking and his smile quivered.

A sick feeling crept into Jack's gut. "He wrote to you?"

"Yes," Martha answered for Ianto. "He wants him to come back to work, but we shouldn't be surprised. Who _wouldn't_ want him back?"

Jack barely heard what Martha was saying.

All he could do was stare at Ianto, whose eyes were shifting about.

"Thank you for delivering the letter," he said to Martha, never taking his eyes off his mate.

"My pleasure." Martha stood with them for a moment, but when nothing was said, she smiled awkwardly and walked back to her husband.

Without looking Jack in the eye, Ianto turned toward the house. "Coffee's on if you all want to come inside."

"Where do you want the horses?" Owen asked. "In the stalls or the pen?"

Jack had to search his mind for an answer. "In the stalls."

The boy began leading them one at a time into the barn. When Jack turned around, Ianto had already gone into the house.

He wanted to trust him about who had written the letter, but at the same time, he wanted to take a look at it for himself.

Martha hurried in behind Ianto.

He supposed he would have to wait to ask.

He hated himself for assuming that Ianto was keeping something from him, but how could he help it? He'd been so vague about his past, and even now, he seemed nervous about something. He hoped the letter wasn't from who he thought it was from.

.

.

.

.

With his heart racing like a runaway skipper, Ianto pulled open the door to the dugout and hurried down the steps. he fixed his gaze on the letter on the table.

Was the stove still burning?

Just before he could reach for the envelope, the door squeaked open. Ianto whirled around expecting to see Jack, but it was Martha with Tosh in her arms.

"Shall we set the table?" Martha asked.

Ianto tried to breathe normally. "I was just about to do that."

Martha set Tosh down. "Why don't you play with your doll? I have to help Mr. Harkness."

Ianto glanced at the letter. He had to hide it.

With the pretext of clearing away the flowers, he picked up the cup, set it on the window sill, and stuffed the letter into his pocket.

First chance he got, he would toss it into the stove.

.

.

.

.

Jack and Owen swung the barn door closed.

They walked together to the little dugout, Janet at their heels. Once inside, Jack paused on the bottom step, inhaling the delectable scent of freshly baked bread mixed with coffee and spices.

Ianto stood at the stove stirring the supper in the cast-iron pot and humming quietly. He stared at the back of his head with its loose curls of hair, and noticed his palms had become clammy. What if his lover had asked him to come back to him?

How would he respond to that?

He cleared his throat and pulled his gaze away to see Mickey lighting his pipe in the far corner. Tosh was sitting on the floor playing with a raggedy doll. It was the scene of his dreams—a house full of loved ones.

Jack took the last step down and tried not to think about the letter and what it might mean. It might not even be what he thought. Maybe the letter was as he had said…from his employer.

"Smells good." He removed his hat and set it on the nail keg by the door. "What is it?"

"Rabbit stew," Martha replied. "Mickey caught it special for tonight."

"Much obliged, Mickey."

Mickey held his pipe in one hand, looping the other hand through a suspender.

"Well, that fool rabbit leaped right in front of my skipper on the way back from town. Stopped and stared at me like he wanted to treat me to dinner."

Everyone laughed.

"Mickey has always been rather lucky that way," Martha said to Ianto. "Animals seem to fall over themselves trying to get in line to be his next meal."

Ianto laughed, but Jack noticed that the usual sparkle in his eye was missing.

Owen proceeded to tell every last yarn about his pa's good fortune with a rifle, while the mates served up the meal.

They all ate the delicious stew, laughing and going on about Jack's somewhat poor luck when it came to hunting.

After supper, the mates cleaned the kitchen, while Mickey, Jack, and Owen sat outside watching the sun streak the sky with pinks and purples. They listened to the clanging of dishes inside while talking about their ploughing, and when the sky finally grew dark, they started a small fire in the centre of the yard to warm their hands against the evening chill.

"What's this?" Martha asked, appearing unexpectedly behind them. "We clean the dugout until it sparkles, and you want to sit out here with the snakes?"

Mickey reached for his mate's skirt and pulled her onto his lap. "I picked out a star for you, my dear. We've been waiting for you to come out, so we could show it to you."

"No, we haven't!" Owen broke in. "We were talking about butchering the pig!"

They all burst into a fit of laughter, except for Owen who didn't see anything funny about it. The hysterics were just dying down when Ianto came out of the house holding Tosh's hand.

When he reached their little gathering, Jack stood and offered his chair to him. He nodded politely and sat down, lifting Tosh onto his lap.

Jack sat on the ground beside him.

"How's about some music?" Mickey asked.

Owen sat up on his heels. "Yes, Pa! Play something good!"

Martha rose from her husband's lap to let him stand, then took the chair for herself.

"He's been itching to play that thing ever since we got here."

Owen fetched the fiddle from the case, handed it to his father who cupped it under his chin. "Any requests?"

"Play 'Buffalo Gals!'" Owen hollered.

"'Buffalo Gals' it is." He touched the bow to the strings and filled the night with music. The children leaped to their feet to dance, hooking arms and skipping in circles.

Jack laughed as he watched their faces light up like a hundred candles burning at once. He glanced up at Ianto, wanting to be alone with him, to ask him about the letter.

How could he enjoy all this when he needed to ease his mind?

"Play 'Jimmy Crack Corn'!" Owen suggested when the first tune came to an end.

Mickey quickly drew bow to strings again and started anew. Tosh giggled and leaped onto Jack's lap, and he promptly squeezed her with a bear hug, growling at the same time.

Owen reached for Ianto's hand. "Come dance with me, Mr. Harkness!"

Without waiting for an answer, he pulled him out of his chair and looped his arm through Ianto's. Jack watched his mate skip around in circles with young Owen, his face alight with joy, as his feet came off the ground.

Despite everything, how could Jack help but smile, too?

When the song finally ended, Ianto flopped into his chair, panting and laughing at the same time.

"That was wonderful!" he said to Owen, who stood in front of him, still holding his hand, waiting for the next song to begin.

"Come and sit with me, Owen," Martha said. "Give Mr. Harkness a chance to catch his breath."

Owen went obediently to his mother and climbed onto her lap.

"How about something for the newlyweds?" Mickey suggested, rubbing his chin.

He began to play 'Lorena,' a haunting ballad, and Martha began to sing, her voice as deep and rich as the dark sky above. The sounds floated upward with the crackling sparks from the fire.

Jack whispered into Tosh's ear and gently set her onto the ground.

He stood and held his hand out to his mate. Ianto looked up at him, hesitated briefly, then allowed him to help him rise. Jack led him away from the fire, slid his hand around his waist, and stepped into a fluid waltz.

The night closed in around them, drowning out the fears locked in his heart, while only the sad sound of the fiddle and Martha's voice remained.

Jack squeezed Ianto's hand gently while he led him through the dance, admiring his lightness as he followed without falter.

When the last note floated up to the stars, Jack reluctantly stepped back. He still held Ianto's hands, however, and they stood facing each other, staring into each other's eyes.

"Play something good now, Pa!" Owen called out.

Jack let go of Ianto's hand.

he lowered his gaze to the ground and sat down.

Within seconds, lively fiddle music struck a new mood and the children leaped up to dance. Jack, all too aware of the melancholy place he'd just been, sought to pull himself out of it by tugging Martha out of her chair.

Ianto clapped his hands while the rest of them danced around the fire.

They laughed and hooted, but for the remainder of the evening, Jack never quite recovered from the affection he'd felt while dancing with his mate.

When midnight came, Tosh fell asleep in Martha's arms.

"It's time to go," she whispered to Mickey, touching his hand, preventing him from lowering the fiddle bow for another song.

Mickey rubbed his chin. "I suppose you're right. My arm's about to fall off."

Everyone giggled.

"Thank you so much for calling on us," Ianto said, rising. "I can't remember ever having so much fun. We must do it again soon."

"We will." They exchanged hugs and goodbyes. After loading their family and belongings into the skipper, the Smiths left Ianto and Jack standing outside their door, waving as their neighbours drove off, into the night.

Soon all was quiet. Jack was finally alone with Ianto.

"Shall we go in?" he suggested, letting his hand rest on the small of his back.

Ianto glanced up at him, all smiles gone. "You go ahead. I'll put out the fire."

"I'll do it."

"Don't be silly. You worked hard today. I'll make sure it's out." he reached forward and brushed his hair away from his forehead.

They stared into each other's eyes in the dark until Ianto swept his lashes downward then he walked toward the roaring bonfire.

Jack watched him go.

He had the most uneasy feeling, but wanted more than anything to trust him.

After hesitating for a moment, he turned and went inside.

Ianto sat down in front of the bonfire and felt inside his pocket. The letter was still there, and he reconsidered what he was about to do.

If he burned it, wouldn't Jack wonder why?

Paper was a valuable commodity on the prairie, and for him to be so wasteful….

Oh, if only Martha hadn't mentioned it!

He sat in the chair, staring at the yellow flames, wondering if it would be better to simply tell Jack the letter was from Lisant. Then he could rip it up in front of him to prove he didn't want to go back.

But what if he asked to read it?

 _I know you love me. You said so in your vows._

Dear Lord, he would have to confess everything.


	9. Chapter 9

9

He looked at the house with growing dread. He hated keeping all these secrets from Jack, but he couldn't put him in danger either.

Besides that, what would it do to him if he knew? Their relationship had come such a long way in the past few weeks, but not far enough to handle anything like this. He would be angry and probably devastated.

Ianto couldn't bear to think of it.

Oh, if only they had been married longer.

Surely, in time, when their rocky beginning was a more distant memory, Jack would be more forgiving.

Ianto would tell him one day, he promised himself, when Lisant was no longer a threat.

But not now.

Not until Lisant was in jail.

Ianto looked up at the black sky and made up his mind. He would burn the letter.

Now.

If Jack asked to see it, Ianto would tell him that he'd used it to light the stove and foolishly hadn't considered keeping the paper for future use.

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.

Sitting at the table and fiddling with a spoon, Jack didn't like what he was thinking.

He just couldn't stop being suspicious, could he?

Why had Ianto been so bent on putting out that fire?

Growing more impatient with every passing second, he went to the dark window and cupped his hands to the cool, clean pane.

Ianto was sitting in one of the chairs, staring up at the sky.

It mortified Jack not to trust him, but he had to know what he was doing. He crossed the room, climbed the steps and pushed open the door. Its creaky hinges drew Ianto's attention.

The fire illuminated his face, and he saw a flash of panic.

Ianto quickly dropped what must have been the letter into the fire. It sparked and crackled, then disappeared.

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Ianto stared at Jack from across the yard.

Seconds passed.

All he could do was to wait for the other shoe to drop.

He walked toward him, his face tense with anger.

Or was it disappointment?

"What did you burn?" he asked. "The letter Martha brought?"

Ianto nodded, his heart sinking.

"It wasn't from your employer, was it," he said.

"No," he answered, truthfully.

Ianto saw his jaw tighten. "Why did you burn it? Weren't you going to tell me who it was from?"

"I thought you'd be angry."

"Should I be? You didn't encourage him to write, did you?"

"No."

Jack glanced at the fire, still crackling loudly, the flames quivering in the wind.

"What did he write that you didn't want me to see?"

Ianto paused and took a deep breath.

"He wants me to come back," Ianto replied. "That's why I burned it—because I have no intention of ever leaving you."

Jack glared uncertainly at him.

Ianto stood and moved toward him, but he stepped back. Ianto halted, then breached the space he'd tried to keep as his own. "I had to wait for Mickey and Martha to leave before I could tell you about it."

Jack considered his answer, then kicked dirt over the fire and smothered the flames. "You say he wants you back. Doesn't he care that you're another man's mate?"

Ianto regarded him steadily. "He doesn't know about you. I left Delvon Prime without telling him anything. I didn't even say good-bye."

Jack grabbed hold of his arm and squeezed. "Are you telling me the truth, Ianto?"

Fear rioted within him.

Jack had never been rough with him, not even on their wedding night, but he'd seen enough in life to know where a man's anger could lead.

He frantically nodded.

Jack let go of his arm and turned away.

He kicked more dirt onto the dying fire. "Well. I hope, if you decide to put an end to our arrangement here, you'll at least tell me when you're planning to go."

Ianto's stomach dropped, and his heart throbbed painfully in his chest. "I told you, Jack, I have no intention of leaving."

Jack's eyes met Ianto's. "You haven't given me much reason to believe you, burning that letter without letting me see it for myself."

He turned away from him and walked back to the house.

Desperate to make things right, Ianto followed. Once inside, Jack sat down at the table and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"What do you want to do?" Ianto asked, his voice trembling.

"The question is, what do _you_ want to do?"

"I've already told you, I want to stay here. With you."

"Why?" he asked with a frown. "You have a lover back in Delvon Prime who wants you back. If you want to go to him, I'll survive. I only wanted help around here anyway. I can find someone else."

He may as well have punched him in the stomach. "You have no right to say such a thing to me. And I was going to tell you about the letter. I just didn't get the chance."

"But I'll never know for sure, will I?"

Ianto knelt before his chair. "Please, Jack, I know it's hard for you to believe in me, after what happened with…."

he stopped himself.

"After what happened with what?" he asked, his tone accusing.

"After what happened with Gwen."

Jack sat back, staring at him as if he had slapped him.

"Just because she left you doesn't mean I'm going to leave you, too," Ianto said.

Jack frowned at him and scoffed. "Who told you about that? Martha?"

Ianto nodded. "She _had_ to tell me. I needed to know why you were so angry with me, why you were so determined not to care for me."

"I thought you knew why. Because you married me while you already had a man in Delvon Prime. Did you tell her about _that_? Did you tell her how you'd kept that from me?

"No."

Jack looked away. "I didn't think so."

Ianto sat back on his heels, feeling suddenly defensive. "I'm not the only one keeping secrets, Jack."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the trinket under our bed."

"What trinket?"

Ianto could tell by the look in his eyes that he knew exactly what he was referring to. "I found the necklace that you said you sold."

The colour drained from his face. He glanced at the bed, as if he were trying to imagine him moving it aside in order to search through his private belongings.

"When?"

"Today."

He let out a breath of frustration. "Ianto, that necklace doesn't mean anything."

"Then why did you lie to Martha about selling it?"

It seemed as if he didn't have an answer to give.

"The worst part of it all," Ianto went on, "is that you were going to let me sell my mother's gold to get us through the winter, while you didn't even mention that you had something worth far more. You were going to find work somewhere in Veltos, and leave me here all alone. Why?"

Jack reached out to grasp his hand. "I was never going to let you sell that gold. And I wasn't aware that you knew about Gwen."

"Well." he leaned back. "I do."

"Ianto," he tried to explain. "I was ready to _marry_ her. I never took the way I felt about her lightly. That's why I couldn't sell the necklace right away. Then you came, and things got busy, and…"

He looked at him, his eyes accusing. "Maybe _you_ could stop loving someone on a whim, but I couldn't."

Ianto shook him head in exasperation. "Why would you say something like that to me? You have no idea how my heart works, or what I've been through. You seem to think that because you couldn't let go of Gwen, I shouldn't have been able to let go of Lisant. Yes—that's his name. _Lisant_. And you don't know why I left him, or what happened before I came to you. You have no idea."

Jack sat forward. "Then why don't you tell me."

Ianto stared at the dark window, wondering how much of the truth he could reveal without destroying everything.

"I don't love him, Jack. I thought I did at first, but I was naïve and felt very alone." he shook his head solemnly. "He wasn't what I thought he was."

"And what was that?"

Ianto had to consider it a moment. "I thought he was decent."

 _Like you._

Jack shifted in his chair but his expression remained untouched. Ianto wondered if he believed any of what he was saying.

"What are you trying to tell me?" he asked.

"I'm trying to tell you that I made a mistake. After my parents died I was suddenly on my own. I was very close to them and I was devastated."

"Wasn't there anyone you could go to? Any other family?"

"No. There was no one, and I wasn't a child anymore."

"How did they die?"

"Their hopper overturned and went down a sharp incline. They were killed instantly."

Ianto rose to his feet and walked to the window.

He heard Jack's chair slide back and felt his strong hands come to rest on his shoulders. "I'm sorry about that."

He nodded, unable to speak without his voice breaking, but appreciative of his sympathy.

"Lisant was kind to me at first," he continued, needing to change the subject and explain _something_ to his husband, who knew so little. So very little….

"He was handsome and polite," he went on. "I had taken a number of jobs since my parents died. I worked in a shoe factory, then a clothing factory. It was always a struggle to support myself. When I met Lisant, I was working in a hotel restaurant. He came in every day for supper. He seemed like such a fine gentleman, always charming. When he began bringing me a flower each day, I have to admit, I was flattered."

He faced Jack. "I enjoyed his attentions. I was alone and missing my parents, and I wanted to be part of a family again. I saw no reason to turn him away. He seemed so genuinely interested in me."

Jack took a step back, as if he didn't want to hear any more of this, but he had to tell him. He had to explain and make him understand that he had not been as shallow-hearted as he thought.

"He took me driving in his fancy carriage every day and was always so attentive. After only a few weeks, he…." he stopped, uncertain he'd be able to confess the rest.

"He _what_ , Ianto?"

"He proposed to me." he moved past Jack and sat down at the table, resting his chin in her hand.

"He proposed?"

Ianto heard the surprise in Jack's tone, the clear note of jealousy. "Yes."

"Did you accept?"

Ianto forced himself to meet his questioning gaze. "I did. But…"

"You _did_?" Jack sat down again, his face drawn and pale. Ianto could see how shocked he was at this bit of news, and he couldn't imagine what he was going to do when he learned the rest of it.

Ianto couldn't look at him. He was too angry with himself. He had been so fanciful, so trusting and foolish. He had been raised by good, decent parents and he had not known what other sorts of people existed in the world.

He had wrongly assumed that Lisant would be decent, too.

If only he had known about his previous marriage, and where his money came from. he would never have become involved with him.

"Ianto."

He jumped, his gaze flicking through the dim light to settle on his husband. He continued, his voice shaking. "As soon as I accepted, he insisted I never go back to the boarding house where I lived. No mate of his should have to live in a hovel like that, he had said. He booked me into an expensive hotel."

he stumbled around for words, wishing he didn't have to continue. "That was when…."

"He stayed with you in the hotel?" Jack leaned forward in his chair, his brow creasing with anger. "Before he married you?"

He cracked his neck from side to side, fighting to subdue his obvious rage. "I'd like to get on a Transporter bound for Delvon Prime right this minute, so I can wring his neck."

Ianto froze with panic.

Jack couldn't go to Delvon Prime.

He simply could _not_ meet Lisant. Not ever. If he found out about the things Lisant had done—that he was a swindler who cheated elderly ladies out of their fortunes, not to mention the unlawful marriage—he would try to turn Lisant in to the authorities, and that would incriminate Ianto as well. There was no telling what Lisant might do.

He had left him because he feared for his safety. Why go back there?

But to keep it from Jack when he wanted so desperately to trust him with this….

What was worse?

To lie or to risk both their lives?

"So, why did you leave him?" Jack asked directly.

"Because…because after we…."

"After you spent the night with him," he finished for him.

he nodded and chose not to go into any more detail about how unpleasant _that_ part of it had been. "Afterward, he showed a side of himself he'd not shown me before. I think because he had taken my virginity, he felt he owned me in some way. He tied me to the bed in the room and gagged me while he went out to take care of some business—"

Jack shoved his chair back and stood. "He did _what_?"

Ianto couldn't look up. Tears were threatening, and if they came, he feared they'd never stop. His hands began to tremble, his heart pounded like a hammer as she relived the experience. "He tied me to the bed."

"For how long?"

He searched for strength to continue, trying to access the memories he had worked so hard to suppress. "Not long. As soon as he closed the door behind him, he came right back because I was making too much racket, thrashing around, trying to call for help."

Jack ran his hand over his face and paced back and forth.

"I want to meet this man in person. I want to—" He growled like an animal.

"No, Jack, please. Just leave it be. I want to forget about it. I just want to stay here with you, and never see him again."

Jack's neck was corded, his hands clenching and unclenching. Ianto knew that if he ever met Lisant, it would not end well, for any of them. He couldn't let that happen.

He paced around the kitchen like a caged tiger. "He should rot in prison for what he did to you."

"That would be nice," Ianto said, "but I have no proof of any of it. No one would believe it. He was charming and well-respected. I just wanted to get away from him."

Jack swung to look at him. "That's why you answered my advertisement."

"Yes. He told me that he would never let me go, and I knew if I wanted to be free of him, I would have to go very far away where he wouldn't find me. I slipped out of the room when he was indisposed, and I was wandering the streets trying to decide what to do when I stumbled upon the newspaper. I managed to stay hidden until all the arrangements were made."

Jack paced the dirt floor, shaking his head. His eyes had gone from blue to icy grey.

Ianto stood and watched him. "I told you I loved Lisant before because I didn't want you to think I'd give myself to a man I didn't love. And I didn't want to talk about what _really_ happened, because every time I thought of it, the panic would return as if I were back in that bed with the ropes cutting into my wrists. Even now, when I remember it, I feel as if my heart is going to explode out of my chest, and I'm going to die from the anxiety."

Jack sat down on the edge of the bed and said nothing for a long time.

Ianto hoped this would be the end of it.

His eyes were full of sorrow when he finally looked up. "Ianto, the fact that you weren't a virgin on our wedding night—that didn't matter to me. What mattered was that I believed you loved someone else. Even though I never intended to love you or desire you, I was jealous and angry. Why couldn't you have just told me the truth beforehand? I would have understood."

"Would you? If I had written about all of it in my letter, you never would have accepted me. You would have taken someone else with a prettier past."

He raked his fingers through his hair. "You don't know that."

"Yes, I do. After Gwen, you wanted calm waters. No unexpected difficulties that might cause another bride to walk out on you."

He didn't deny it.

"And maybe it didn't matter to you that I wasn't a virgin," he continued, "but it mattered to _me_. I will always regret giving myself to a man I didn't truly love, when a man like you was just over the horizon."

He frowned. "Yet you came here and did it again. On our wedding night, you gave yourself to me when we were complete strangers."

he shook his head at him. "That was different."

"Why? Because you were no longer innocent? The first one mattered? The second one didn't?"

"Of course you mattered!" he cried, unable to control his desperation. "Can't you see? Now I understand that it's not the first time that matters so much as the last. _The last_! There will never be anyone else for me, Jack. You're the only one I will ever want, because I love you. With every inch of my heart and soul. I would do anything for you. Doesn't that count for anything?"

An unrecognizable emotion flickered across his face. Ianto wished he knew what it was. At last, he spoke. "Yes, it counts, Ianto—because I love you, too."

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.

.

Sorry to those of you who detected wrong words, the problem with writing a Fem!Ianto like 'Story of a Time Traveller' as well as this Feminine Ianto one is that I sometimes forget which one I'm on.


	10. Chapter 10

10

All the breath whooshed out of Ianto's lungs.

He blinked a few times in disbelief.

"But I want you to write to Lisant now, and tell him that you're married, and that if he ever tries to contact you again, your husband will hunt him down like a dog and make him rue the day he ever met you."

Ianto saw the anger burning in Jack's eyes and realized it was not an idle threat he was making.

"We'll post it tomorrow," Jack added. "We'll go to town for supplies."

He brushed by him to leave, but stopped and turned. "And if this man knows what's good for him, he'll put you out of his mind for good. Because you're mine now, Ianto, and I swear, by all that is holy, I'll never let anything bad happen to you again. Not while I live and breathe."

Jack stormed out of the house, leaving Ianto standing in the middle of the room, feeling overjoyed that Jack had admitted to loving him—he loved him!

Yet at the same time, he was doubtful and afraid, because unfortunately, Lisant Hallet did _not_ know what was good for him.

He only knew what he wanted.

 **.**

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Ianto swayed, rocked, and bounced in the skipper seat, holding his white woollen coat closed with fingers that were beginning to feel numb with cold.

The temperature had barely warmed since he and Jack had left the dugout at dawn. The sky was pure white, the morning colourless.

The prairie grass waved beneath the relentless wind. Without the sun, the summer heat seemed to be relinquishing itself to autumn far too early.

A chilly breeze blew over his cheeks as he sat quietly with the letter to Lisant in his pocket, feeling its presence like a lead weight.

He knew its contents by heart.

He'd worked hard to find just the right words.

 _Dear Lisant,_

 _I received your letter. Please do not write to me again or try to contact me. It is completely over between us. My heart belongs to another man now, and he will do whatever it takes to keep me safe from you. You would be wise to simply let me go and forget we ever knew each other._

 _Ianto_

He'd been torn over the last line, because he didn't want to incriminate himself, yet he wanted Lisant to understand that he would incriminate _him_ if he did not leave him alone.

Jack cleared his throat beside him.

Ianto wished he would say something.

Anything.

All he did was speed the skipper up. Ianto guessed he wanted this mess over with as much as he did.

All of a sudden, the skipper rose and fell, then jerked to a halt.

"God Damn it all," Jack cursed quietly beside him.

The engines laboured, but the skipper would not budge.

"We're stuck," he said, hopping over the side.

Ianto felt like this was all his fault.

Jack leaned into the left front wheel. "Take the controls and put on some power."

Ianto slid across the seat.

Jack grunted and groaned.

"Okay! Stop, stop!" he yelled, breathing hard. He went around to the front and tried to push the other way as Ianto reversed the speed, but the skipper was wedged in a deep hole.

"Maybe I should get off," Ianto suggested. "Maybe the skipper's too heavy."

Jack glanced up at him, his expression clouded with frustration. He nodded.

Ianto hopped down into the grass, seeing for himself the depth of the hole.

From the ground, the skipper looked tilted at an impossible angle.

Jack moved to the wedged corner again. "Go in front and pull forward."

Ianto did as he was told, and for ten long minutes, he and Jack pushed and prodded and grunted, but to no avail. Ianto walked back to examine the situation.

"How long have we been travelling?"

"It's almost noon. Four hours at least."

He felt uncomfortable making a suggestion, but at the moment, things didn't look very promising, and he couldn't bear any more of his husband's angry looks.

"Why don't we have lunch?" he suggested. "You're tired and the engines need to cool and maybe if we just take our minds off it for a bit, we'll come up with a way out."

He ignored the suggestion and pushed the wheel again. After a worthy effort, he cursed and backed away. "We're going to be late. The post office will be closed."

Ianto wet his lips, understanding why he was so irritable. They'd have to stay over and wait until tomorrow which would mean another day of ploughing lost.

All because of that wretched letter.

Well, they were stuck and they were hungry. It wouldn't hurt to eat something and then start fresh.

Ianto went to the skipper and withdrew the box he'd filled with sandwiches, fried bread and a jug of coffee. "Let's sit down and eat and think about how we're going to get the skipper out."

After sitting down and spreading his coats out around him, he tore off a hunk of bread for himself. Ianto was biting into his second helping when Jack finally joined him and sat down.

"Fried bread?"

He nodded and helped himself.

They ate the whole loaf without saying a word. When they finished, Jack lay back, bent one knee and covered his face with an arm. Ianto watched his lips and his unshaven jaw. The rest of his face was covered by that coat sleeve and the brim of his hat.

"We'll get on the road as soon as we can." he said, "then we could either camp on the outskirts of town or stay with Gray. I reckon he'll string me up if we don't come by."

"That sounds like a fine idea. We can run our errands first thing in the morning."

He didn't say anything for a few minutes, then—"You never offered to show me the letter last night. I'm curious what you wrote."

Ah. Now Ianto understood the true motivation for his surliness.

Ianto reached into his pocket. "I have it right here. Would you like to see it?"

His wrist came away from his eyes and he sat up. The seconds it took for him to read it felt more like hours. Finally, he lowered the paper to his lap and his eyes rose to meet Ianto's. His brow was no longer furrowed. "It's a good letter."

"I'm glad you think so."

Everything was quiet for a moment, except for the chilly wind sweeping across the prairie. Ianto gathered her good coat more tightly about his shoulders.

"I'm sorry I was so hard on you last night," he said, "but I was angry, and maybe a little jealous."

Surprised, Ianto wet his lips. "You have nothing to apologize for."

"After I saw you burning that letter, I assumed the worst. I should have given you a chance to explain." He leaned back on one arm, plucked a blade of grass, and entwined it around his index finger. "Do you think, after we post your letter, we could…"

He paused, swallowing. "We could start again? I don't know what Martha told you about Gwen and me, but I promise you, Ianto, that's finished. I brought the necklace with me this morning. I'm going to sell it today so that we won't have to be apart over the winter. Once your letter goes out to Delvon Prime, everything will be different."

Ianto's heart warmed with hope and joy, knowing that Jack still wanted to be with him. He wasn't giving up.

"That sounds wonderful."

They sat in silence for a moment, staring up at the thick, heavy cloud-cover. Then Ianto couldn't help himself. He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer that his past would not catch up with him— _ever_ —and that this new life on the prairie, with the most incredible, beautiful man he ever imagined to exist, would not turn out to be only a temporary respite from the nightmare.

It frightened him sometimes, that out here on the prairie, so far from the rest of the world, this new life he'd stumbled into felt more like a dream than anything real.

.

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.

"Let's unload the skipper," Jack said, feeling replenished after eating his lunch and refuelling the skipper, checking the engines and finding dust in the filters. He had to admit his mate had been right in forcing him to take a break and eat something.

Ianto helped him unload the cooking utensils, the kettle, the spider skillet, and the boxes of butter and eggs he'd brought to trade for blankets. Jack removed his shovel and shot gun. "I'm going to dig us out of this hole and use the shovel handle as leverage to lift the cornerl. You can lead the horse out of the way."

Ianto headed for Blackie who was standing silently watching the fun from his tether at the back of the skipper.

For the next half hour, he forced the shovel into the tough ground, thick with tangled, grassy roots. Then at last the time had come to try again.

"Let's use the horse! He was only going to be for around the town as Skipper parking is so bloody sparse, he can pull now." Jack suddenly thought with inspiration.

Ianto walked to the front and took hold of the harness. "I'm ready whenever you are."

Jack speared the shovel into the dirt to lift the wheel. It came up an inch or two.

"Start pulling!" he yelled, throwing his full weight upon the handle of the shovel to lift the corner, and feeling it cut into his palms.

Sluggishly the skipper moved. "Pull harder!"

"

The horse strained against the impossible weight, stumbling and groaning as the engines wailed. The skipper creaked like an old ship, then soon shifted and rolled up the slope, picking up speed.

Then Jack heard a scream. He scrambled out from behind, but saw no sign of Ianto.

"Whoa!" he yelled.

The horse came to a sudden halt as Jack slapped at the brake switch.

"Ianto!" Dropping to his knees, he crawled under the skipper where Ianto lay on his side, clutching his wrist.

"Are you all right?"

"It's my arm. Blackie lost his footing when the skipper took off and stepped on it."

"Is it broken?"

"I don't know."

"Let me see." He tried gently to peel his hand away. A muddy hoofprint dirtied his long sleeve.

Why had he let him do this? Why hadn't he just done it himself? "Can you move it?"

"No."

Leaning up on his elbow beside him, watching his face go paler, Jack carefully rolled up the sleeve. His hands shook as he closed his fingers around the tiny, wounded wrist, feeling for broken bones. "Am I hurting you?"

Stiffening, Ianto stared straight up at the bottom of the skipper and nodded. "Yes. I think it must be broken. I'm sorry, Jack. That was so careless of me, to lose my footing."

Clenching his teeth together, Ianto tried to sit up.

"It's not your fault. It's mine," Jack said. "And we'll go straight to Doc Harper's office when we reach town."

After helping Ianto out from under the skipper, Jack swept him into his arms like a new bride and set him gently onto the skipper seat. By now, his colour was pasty gray.

Jack tried to appear calm, but his heart was battering his ribcage. What if something worse had happened to Ianto? What if the horse had crushed him? Or a skipper fan had rolled over his body? Ianto could have died horribly right there in his arms, all because he was too impatient to wait on posting that damn letter.

An image flashed in his brain suddenly, like a lightning bolt—his youngest sister, Melissa, cradled in his arms.

He remembered the exact moment she had taken her last breath, and how he had watched—sobbing uncontrollably, tears streaming down his face—as she quietly slipped away.

 _Sweet, darling Melissa_.

She had been only seven. But so strong, for she had held on the longest. She was the last one to go.

As Jack flicked the reins and took it slow over the rutted road, he glanced at Ianto beside him, and felt almost sick to his stomach.

.

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.

By the time they rolled into Boeshane, it was nearly dusk and the pain in Ianto's arm was severe and uncompromising. Every time they'd hit a bump along the way, fresh spasms of agony shot through his body, and it took every ounce of self-control he possessed not to break down into a fit of weeping.

Instead, he'd forced herself to withstand it.

When he wanted to cry out, he focused on breathing steadily, in and out.

"We're almost there," Jack said, steering onto Front Street. "You look cold."

"I'm fine." But his teeth were chattering.

Jack shrugged out of his coat and draped it over his shoulders. As he wrapped it around himself, fresh pain shot up his side, but at least the coat was warm…thank heavens for that.

And it smelt of him.

They pulled up in front of the doctor's home on the main street, but all the windows were dark. "Wouldn't you know it," Jack whispered. "He's not here."

They sat in the skipper for a moment while Jack decided what to do. Ianto pulled the coat tighter around his shoulders.

"I'm going to drive you to Gray's place," he said, "and get you settled. Then I'll track down the doctor and bring him over."

Jack drove to his brother's house. Thankfully, a lantern was flickering in the front window. Jack leaped out of the skipper, ran up the steps, and pounded on the front door.

Almost immediately, it creaked open and Gray stepped into view. "Jack! What are you doing here?"

He glanced over Jack's shoulder toward the skipper. "Is Ianto with you?"

"Yes. We came in for supplies and got stuck on the prairie. he's hurt and we need the doctor."

Gray's eyes widened with shock. "Bring him in!"

Jack ran back to the skipper to fetch him. Feeling weak and sick, Ianto leaned on his shoulder to step down. Before he knew what was happening, he had swept him into his arms.

he buried his face in Jack's neck, wanting to disappear into a deep sleep there, but knowing it would be impossible to ignore the pain long enough to slip away. Jack carried him inside, his strides smooth and fluid.

"Take him upstairs to the spare room," Gray instructed, following. "I'll light the lamp."

In a matter of minutes, Ianto was set down on a soft mattress, and his husband drew a quilt up over him. He touched his forehead with the back of his hand. "You'll be alright until I get back?"

"Yes."

Jack turned to his brother. "Gray, look after him. I'm going to find the doctor."

Ianto listened to the sound of his husband's boots tapping lightly down the stairs and the squeaking of the screen door as it burst open and snapped shut.

He lay in the bed, staring up at the white painted ceiling.

Gray approached the bed. "How did it happen?"

Ianto hadn't even realized he was in the room. He'd been concentrating on fighting the pain.

"The skipper got stuck in a deep rut," he answered. "I was leading the horse out, but he slipped and I fell. I should have been more careful."

"Nonsense. Accidents happen. Where was Jack?"

"Behind the back corner." he paused to breathe. "He was in such a hurry to get to town…."

Gray frowned. "Is everything all right between you two?"

Confused and disoriented, Ianto tried to sit up.

"No, lie still." Gray hurried to the bedside and pulled the covers up to his chin again. "I know about the situation. You mustn't worry."

he tried again to sit up. "What _situation_? Do you mean the bugs?"

He backed away, bumping into the rocking chair and stumbling slightly.

"Gray, what's going on?"

"Nothing. You should rest."

Ianto agitation caused another spasm of pain. He clutched at his arm and dropped back down. "Don't tell me to rest. I'll rest when you tell me what's going on."

Gray pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. "It's nothing to be concerned about."

"Please tell me," he said, his tone softening as he tried to sit up. "If you don't,

I'll lie here imagining all sorts of things, probably far worse than whatever it is you're trying to hide from me."

Gray let out a sigh of defeat. "Like I said, it's nothing to worry about. It's just that an old…" He paused. "An old _friend_ of Jack's is at the centre of a scandal."

"A scandal?" Ianto's thoughts slowly came into focus. "An old friend? Do you mean Gwen?"

Gray relaxed slightly. "So you know about her."

"Of course. He told me everything. _Eventually_. What's happening?"

Gray let out a breath.

"Evidently, her husband has abandoned her. That certainly didn't last long," he added, under his breath.

Ianto felt a wave of uneasiness spread through his body. "Where did you hear that? Maybe it's just gossip."

"It's quite true."

"How can you be sure?"

Gray stared at him, directly. "Because she came home to her father's house last week, and she called on me the other day to ask about Jack."


	11. Chapter 11

11

Jack burst through Gray's front door with Doc Harper trailing a few paces behind him. "He's up here."

They quickly climbed the stairs.

When they walked into the bedroom, Ianto looked at first as if he'd fallen asleep, but his eyelids fluttered open immediately upon their approach.

Gray was sitting in the rocking chair, watching over him.

The doctor pushed passed Jack. "Good evening, Mr. Harkness. I'm Doctor Harper. You're husband tells me you were trampled today."

"Yes," he replied. "I think my wrist is broken."

The doctor approached, set his leather bag down on the bed, and touched his forehead. "No temperature. That's a good thing."

He pulled the covers back. "Which arm is it? Ah, this one."

Jack stepped forward.

Ianto's hand had turned black and blue. It was swelled up the size of a turnip.

Doc Harper attempted to roll up his sleeve but it was too tight. "I'm going to have to cut this."

He darted a glance at Gray in the rocker.

"I'll wait downstairs." Gray rose and took Jack by the arm. "Why don't you come too? I should talk to you about something."

Jack glanced down at his brother's firm grip. "I'll come later."

"I'll need his help here," the doctor firmly mentioned.

Gray hesitated briefly, then left the room and closed the door behind him.

The doctor withdrew scissors from his bag and cut Ianto's sleeve from wrist to elbow. "I'm going to examine you now, buddy. I warn you, it might smart a bit."

Jack approached the bed and took hold of his other hand.

The doctor touched Ianto's wrist. "Does this hurt?"

"Yes."

The doctor's grip inched up a little. "How about this?"

Ianto's whole body wrenched.

"Yes!" he replied through clenched teeth.

The doctor felt around a bit more then glanced up at Jack. "It's broken, all right. Judging by the look of his hand, I need to set the bone right now. There's no circulation."

"What about something for the pain?" Jack asked.

"No time to wait for it to take effect. He could lose his hand. Grab his arm, right here."

Ianto steeled himself while Jack moved around the bed and took hold.

The doctor gripped his wrist and felt around with his fingers. "This is going to hurt, Mr. Harkness, but I'll do it as quickly as I can."

Suddenly, he yanked. Ianto cried out. Jack held onto his arm, biting back the urge to push the doctor away. He was pushing and pulling and twisting the arm with all his might.

Ianto writhed in agony on the bed. Jack had to hold him down.

"Please stop!" Ianto cried. "I can't take it!"

The doctor let go and stepped back, wiped his forehead with his sleeve. Ianto squirmed on the bed, grimacing in pain.

"Did you do it?" Jack asked.

The doctor shook his head, his brows drawn together with concern. "I couldn't set it in place. There's a lot of swelling. I'll give him a break then I'll have to try again."

The doctor went to the door and called down the stairs. "Gray! Do you have any whiskey?"

Jack leaned over Ianto and brushed his hair off his forehead. He was laying still now, a thin film of sweat covering his face.

Gray hurried into the room with a bottle. "Is everything all right?"

"I'm still setting the bone," the doctor replied, taking the whiskey from Gray.

He tipped it over Ianto's mouth and he gulped down as much as he could.

"Very good. Let's try again." He handed the bottle back to Gray.

"Please, not yet," Ianto said.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Harkness. But your hand…." He nodded at Jack to take his arm again and hold it steady. "Courage, now."

Jack's gut turned over at the sight of him, gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut. Tears spilled onto Ianto's cheeks as he prepared himself.

The doctor yanked against Jack's hold.

Ianto cried out and contorted in pain.

Horrified at the degree of physical strength he had to use against the doctor's twisting and pulling, Jack prayed for it to be over quickly.

Finally the doctor set the bone in place and Ianto sagged against Jack in relief.

"Gray, get me the splints in my bag."

Doc Harper wrapped Ianto's arm while he rested his cheek on Jack's shoulder.

Jack leaned down and kissed the top of his head. "It's over now, love."

He nodded weakly.

"Can you give him something now, Doc?" Jack asked.

"Yes. I'll give him some morphine."

A short while later, Ianto closed his eyes and went to sleep. Jack buried his face in his hands. God help him, if anything ever happened to him. He couldn't go through that again.

Jack and Doc Harper went downstairs to the kitchen where Gray was boiling water for tea. "Will he be alright?" Gray asked.

"He'll be sore for a while," Doc answered, "but he'll survive and he'll keep his hand."

"That's a relief. Would you like to stay for tea, Doc?"

"No thank you. I have to get home. I'll keep the rest of this bottle though."

Jack showed him to the door.

"I guess you heard about the bugs," he said quietly. Doctor Harper nodded and laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "We're a bit hard up at the moment, but we've got butter in the skipper, if that'll do until I can pay you what I owe."

The doctor held up his hand. "I know you're a man of your word, Jack. Pay me when you can."

Jack nodded, appreciating the doctor's generosity. At least he had the necklace to sell. After the doctor drove away, Jack went to the kitchen and sat down, his legs giving out on him suddenly. He'd been strong upstairs for Ianto, but now all he wanted to do was down some of that whiskey himself. He looked up at Gray. "So, what is it you wanted to talk to me about?"

Gray poured two cups of tea and carried them to the table. "I think you'd better sit down, because I had a visitor the other day."

"Who was it?"

Gray paused. "Gwen."

Jack said nothing for a moment. He simply raised the tea cup to his lips, trying not to appear shaken or to reveal that the mere mention of her name made him feel angry. "What did she want?"

"Are you ready for this?"

Jack wasn't sure he was, but he nodded anyway.

"Her husband ran off with a barmaid from The Vogue Theatre."

Jack set the china cup down on the saucer and let out a breath. "Is this supposed to matter to me?"

Gray slumped back in his chair. "I don't know. I thought it might, but I'm pleased to see that it doesn't."

Jack frowned at him. "What did you expect?"

Gray shrugged. "A part of me thought you might dash out the door to let her cry on your shoulder."

Jack shifted in his chair. "No, because I have a mate upstairs that I care about. Very much. And why are you looking at me like that?"

Gray rubbed his chin. "I don't know. I guess I'm just surprised."

Jack set down his cup with a clatter and stood. "I don't care about what's happening to Gwen, Gray. I'm sorry for her. But that's all."

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Jack entered the quiet, dimly lit bedroom and climbed into bed next to Ianto.

He was flat on his back, sleeping soundly. With that dose of morphine, the doctor said he probably wouldn't wake until morning.

Jack reached out and let his hand rest gently upon his. A swell of deep regret erupted within him. If he could have traded places with him tonight, he would have, without hesitation. He would have done anything to spare him that suffering.

He leaned up on one elbow to look at his lovely face, peaceful at last, and then kissed him lightly on the lips. Strange, to think he was married to Ianto because of Gwen.

He had never imagined anything good would come of her breaking their engagement, but looking back on it, it was the very thing that had forced him to place a passionless advertisement in a newspaper, that in the end had brought him Ianto.

Gwen had been here to see Gray. Why? What had she said to him? Downstairs, the news had startled Jack. He had worked hard to appear indifferent and hadn't permitted himself to ask any questions.

He cupped his forehead with his hand and closed his eyes, dreading the possibility that he might see her again, in town. He would, of course, be polite, but there was no question that it would be awkward. On the other hand, if her visit with Gray was simply a courtesy, there was nothing to worry about.

He stared through the darkness at the ceiling, listening to Ianto's steady breathing beside him. If Gwen held onto some hope that he would take her back again, she would have to learn straightaway that he was married to someone else now, and had no intention of breaking his vows.

Gwen would have to learn that what once existed between them was dead and buried.

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Ianto woke the next morning, his arm throbbing. He groaned and remembered the horrors of the night before—the doctor pulling and twisting. It was like something out of a nightmare. He'd never endured anything so physically painful in all his life. And it seemed the pain intended to stay a while….

Ianto listened to voices downstairs.

Jack and Gray were talking, but he could not make out what they were saying. Feeling thirsty, he noticed a glass of water on the bedside table, but when he reached for it, he accidentally knocked it over. It fell to the floor and broke.

"Drat." he tried to rise, but felt sick and dizzy and flopped back down onto the bed.

A knock sounded at the door. When he didn't answer, it opened and Jack walked in.

"Are you all right?" He shut the door behind him and crossed the room.

"I feel terrible, actually, like I've been trampled all over again this morning."

"No wonder. The doctor gave you quite a dose of whiskey last night. And morphine. How's your arm?"

"Sore."

He reached up to sweep a tendril of hair away from his eyes. Despite the rolling stomach, Ianto's body calmed at his touch, and he felt Jack's love for him explode in his heart.

"We don't have to go anywhere until you're feeling better," Jack said. "Gray says we can stay as long as we need to."

"What about the ploughing?"

"That can wait a few days, and young Owen will take care of the milking until we get back. The important thing is that you get well."

"I feel like such a nuisance. I've caused you nothing but trouble."

Jack caressed his face tenderly and gave him a reassuring smile. "Hardly."

Ianto sighed with contentment. "You don't have to stay here just because of me. You could go back and finish your work, and I'll come when I'm better. I'll be fine, really."

But in all honesty, he didn't want to be away from him, not even for a single day, because he longed for his touch, constantly. Just to be in the same room with him now was the best medicine he could ask for. He was so handsome, so appealing to him in every way; he distracted him from the pain and whatever other hardships might lay ahead.

"I wouldn't think of it," he replied. "The doc said you'll be feeling better in a couple of days. You'll just have to take it easy for a while. I'll look after the milking when we get back, and I'm sure Martha would be more than happy to help out."

Ianto smiled appreciatively. "Did you run the errands?"

"Not yet. I'll go after breakfast." He stood up to leave. "Can I get you anything?"

"No, but you'll need this." he reached into his coat pocket and dug out the wrinkled letter to Lisant.

He moved to take it, but he didn't let go right away.

"I'll feel a lot better when I know you've sent it." he finally released it and dropped his hand to his side.

Jack bent to kiss him again, and walked out.

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Bells jingled when Jack opened the door to the General Store and postal office, anxious to send the letter to Lisant and put all that behind them. But as he approached the counter, every man, woman and child seemed to stop what they were doing and fix their eyes on him. He had a funny feeling the whole town knew about Gwen's latest catastrophe.

He walked to the postal wicket with his head down. "Morning, Roger."

Roger Cross sniffled and blew his nose. He'd lost some hair since the last time Jack had seen him. "Morning, Jack. Haven't seen you around in a while."

"I've been busy on the claim. You heard about the bugs, I reckon."

"It's a darn shame. Folks are having a rough time." He turned around and began sorting through a pile of letters. "There's something here for Martha Smith. Came in just this morning. You want to take it?"

"Sure." Jack dug into his pocket for the letter to Lisant and tapped it on the counter.

"Anything else I can do for you today?" Roger asked.

Jack handed him the letter. "Yes. You can post this to Delvon Prime."

Cupping one lens of his spectacles between his thumb and forefinger, Roger studied the address. "Delvon Prime, you say."

"Yes."

"Are you certain? Because there's a Lisant Hallet right here in town."

Jack felt the walls begin to close in around him. "You sure? Maybe it's a different Lisant Hallet."

"Possibly, but this one just arrived from Delvon Prime a few days ago. In fact, he came in to hand deliver that letter Martha picked up. Is he a relation?"

Jack turned to walk out, his boots pounding heavily across the floorboards. "No, he's most definitely not."

"You don't want to post that letter?" Roger called after him.

"Nope," Jack replied as he pushed through the door and felt his vision turn red.

"I'll hold onto it for now."

 **.**

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Walking back to Gray's house, Jack fought to keep his anger in check. Ianto didn't know about Lisant's presence in town—at least he didn't think so. God only knew what was in that letter he burned.

As he walked, he had to force his suspicions down and try not to assume the worst.

He had to trust that he had told him the truth about everything, and that he had no idea Lisant had followed him here.

And Heaven help the man if he tried to see him or talk to him. After what he did to Ianto, it would take every ounce of self-control Jack possessed not to beat the despicable worm to a bloody pulp.

As Jack approached Gray's house, he considered what he was going to say if Ianto asked if he'd posted the letter.

He stopped on the covered veranda for a moment and stared down at the unpainted wood planks under his boots.

Laughter from the kitchen startled him.

Ianto was feeling better, it seemed.

Jack pulled the screen door open and walked in to find him sipping tea with his coat pulled over the arm in the splint, listening to Gray tell the story of how Jack had bloodied Little Charlred Tomtit's nose twenty years ago.

Jack moved into the room. The laughter died away. Gray slid his chair back and stood. "Jack. We were just talking about you."

"I gathered that." He looked down at his mate's curious face and shrugged out of his coat. "You were saying?"

Gray cleared his throat. "Um, I was just telling Ianto why no one calls you Jaxton."

Jack glanced from Gray to Ianto, and back at Gray again. The two of them looked like children caught spying on their teacher before school.

Jack draped his buckskin coat over the back of a chair. "Little Charlred Tomtit was in dire need of a bloody nose. In fact, he told me afterwards it cleared up his head cold."

Gray and Ianto glanced at each other then began to laugh. Jack backed up against the dry sink, watching them and wondering how he was going to tell his injured mate that his former betrothed—who had abused him unforgivably—was here in town, and that his current husband wanted to hunt him down and give him far worse than a mere bloody nose.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he eyed his coat pocket and saw the top corner of the letter peeking out. It wouldn't be long before Ianto saw it too and asked why he hadn't posted it.


	12. Chapter 12

_12_

"I guess you noticed I'm feeling better," Ianto said cheerfully. "My arm is still sore, but I think I just needed to eat something. If you want to go home today, I think I could manage it."

 _Go home_.

He wouldn't want to leave so soon if he'd come here expecting to see Lisant.

That provided Jack with some relief. They could drive straight out of town and be long gone before he even mentioned Lisant to him. He'd eventually have to tell him of course.

He only hoped it wouldn't matter.

"Sure, we could leave today," he said. "Only if you're certain you feel well enough."

Ianto stood up with care. "I think so. Did you run all the errands? You weren't gone very long."

"I still have a few things left to do." He thought mainly about the necklace and the blankets they needed, and maybe having a word or two with a particular worm from Delvon Prime, if he could find him.

"We could run the errands on the way out of town," Ianto suggested. "If someone would help me gather my things?"

Jack reluctantly agreed, knowing that if Ianto was with him, he couldn't very well track Lisant down. Wondering what to do, he watched him go upstairs, then felt the weight of Gray's curious stare.

"What's the matter?" Jack asked.

Gray cocked his head. "Nothing. You just look bothered."

"Wouldn't you be, if your horse trampled your mate?"

"I suppose," Gray replied, as if he wasn't convinced that was the problem.

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Ianto let Jack assist him into the skipper, but with the movement of vehicle as they lurched forward came a stabbing pain in his arm, all the way up to his shoulder.

He suppressed the urge to complain about it, wondering if he'd made a mistake in suggesting they travel home today. He had honestly felt better at the time. He just hadn't imagined how difficult it would be to climb into the skipper with one arm in a splint.

Jack climbed up beside him and freed the brake.

They waved to Gray, who was out on the veranda leaning on the railing, and then they rolled down the dusty street toward the business district.

A few minutes later, they were driving along Front Street, passing other skippers, carriages, and roaming livestock. The street seemed to play music, like a grand orchestra of _clip clops_ , jangling harnesses, cow bells, and nickering horses.

"We'll stop in at Wright's to sell the butter and eggs," Jack said, pulling the skipper to a halt out front, "but why don't you stay here and wait for me?"

He knew it would be painful to get in and out, but he also knew the trip home would leave him sitting in the skipper for many hours to come. "I'd prefer to go with you."

He agreed and helped him down, withdrew the wooden box from the back, then led the way into the store.

The door swung closed behind Ianto, and he stood for a moment looking at everything from saddles and rifles to barrels of salt and molasses, canned goods, ashes for soap-making, and bolts of calico fabric. Customers roamed around, inspecting items and chattering constantly, and the air was thick with the scents of tobacco, spices, and leather.

Jack made his way to the counter and set the box down. "Morning, Adam."

"Jack." He glanced over Jack's shoulder at Ianto, who approached and linked an arm through his. "This is my mate, Ianto Harkness. Ianto? This is Adam."

"It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise. I don't recall seeing you in town before. You must be from away."

"That's right. I'm from—"

"He's from out east," Jack finished for him.

Bewildered, Ianto slid him a look, but he was already changing the subject, and he could only guess that he didn't want folks to know that he'd ordered him like a catalogue item.

"We have some butter and eggs here…" Jack continued.

While Ianto watched the transaction take place, a settler approached and leaned on the counter beside him. He held soiled, brown gloves in his hands, and Ianto wondered uncomfortably how long had it been since the man had taken a bath. Filth on his clothing screamed unclean and Ianto looked down, seeing what appeared to be dried blood on the man's boots. He raised a finger under his nose and then unexpectedly, he gagged.

Jack immediately turned his attention to him. "You all right?"

Eyes watering, he quickly nodded, unable to speak for fear of gagging again.

"I just need some air. I'll wait outside." he hurried to the door.

"What about picking out the blankets?"

Without turning back, he replied, "You can choose them."

Outside, he sucked in a mouthful of fresh air. Well…as fresh as could be expected with the stockyard less than a mile away. At least the gagging sensation had passed.

Ianto walked leisurely along the boardwalk to the skipper, and climbed awkwardly onto the seat while favouring his sore arm. He sat down and spread his coat over his legs, waiting. Skippers and buggies rattled by, the gentlemen tipping their hats at him, ladies smiling. On horseback, cowboys trotted down the centre of the wide street.

Just then, a familiar voice spoke from behind. "Well, well. What a coincidence."

His body exploding with shock and apprehension, Ianto stared straight ahead, praying he was imagining things, because he would know that voice anywhere. But unfortunately for him, the voice was real. Lisant moved into his line of vision and tipped his elegant top hat at him.

"That arm must be awfully painful if you're going to let your husband choose your bedding," he said. "Aren't you worried he'll choose the wrong colour?"

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Jack stared blankly at the pile of blankets for sale. There were gray ones, red ones, and blue ones. He wondered what Ianto would prefer—something like the red blanket he had hung in their house, or something different?

Ah, what did it matter? All he needed was something to keep them warm at night in the big, comfortable feather bed he intended to build for them very soon.

Besides, he'd kept him waiting long enough.

Jack chose a red one and a blue one, and proceeded to the counter. He had to wait a moment while the lady ahead of him paid for her dry goods. At last, he stepped up and set down the blankets. "I'll take these."

"Fine. I gave you a credit for the butter. Tell your mate I already sold half of it."

"He'll be pleased to hear it." He thought of how worried he'd been that no one would want the butter. He couldn't wait to tell him. Right after that, he'd deliver the news about Lisant and hope that he wouldn't care—that he'd simply want to go home.

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Ianto slid across the hard seat, away from Lisant, but winced in pain. "What are you doing here?"

Ianto watched helplessly as he leaned against the side of Jack's skipper and crossed one ankle over the other. He brushed a fleck of dust off the shoulder of his black coat.

Panic—raw and icy—froze him to the seat.

He removed his hat. "What do you _think_ I'm doing here? I came to take you home, where you belong."

"How did you find me?"

"It wasn't difficult. Didn't you get my letter? The Transporter master in Delvon Prime was very cooperative, and once I got here… Well, this town is exactly what I imagined it would be. It seems everyone knows everyone else's business."

"Then you must know that I'm married," he said with a note of warning in his voice. "His name is Jack and he'll be out of the store any minute now."

"Yes, I know about Jack. The heartbroken farmer. Sad story, that is."

"You don't know anything about it," Ianto practically spat. "Or about _him_."

Lisant's expression was one of pained tolerance. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Ianto stared at him, unable to speak. He leaned toward Ianto, his eyes calculating and sinister. "You must realize that your marriage to that man isn't legal."

The panic he had felt when Lisant had bound him in the hotel room began to creep up on him, causing his heart beat to accelerate. "It _is_ legal. It was done at the courthouse."

Lisant shook his head, as if he considered him to be a fool. "I'm assuming you didn't tell him about us."

"It's none of your business what my husband and I discuss."

" _Your husband_? You say it with such conviction. It makes me want to laugh, Ianto."

Ianto leaned toward him and spoke heatedly through gritted teeth. "Make no mistake about it, after what you did to me, I hate you, Lisant. If you ever lay a hand on me again, I'll report you, and everything I know about you, to the authorities. But you should know that that would be a far better fate than what my husband would do to you if he catches you talking to me. So just leave us alone. Don't ever contact me again."

Lisant strolled to the back of the skipper and stroked Blackie's forelock. "Looks like someone developed a backbone since his arrival here. Did Jack beat that into you?"

"He would never—"

Lisant scoffed. "How much longer are you going to keep this up, Ianto?"

When he gave no reply, he returned to his side and rested his hand on the skipper seat.

Ianto slid across, away from him, to avoid his touch.

"Perhaps I deserve the cold shoulder," he said gently and apologetically in that charismatic voice that had wooed Ianto in the beginning and had made him feel as if he truly cared about his happiness. "But I told you I was sorry for not explaining everything sooner. You know I love you more than anyone. You're the most beautiful man I've ever known. I want you to come home. Put all this foolishness behind us."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Ianto firmly told him. "I'm with Jack now."

He gave Ianto a look. "Surely, you couldn't love a _farmer_ who makes you live in a house made of dirt. You're better than that."

He glanced at the splint on his arm. "Besides, it looks like he doesn't treat you very well."

"He didn't do this. Unlike you, he would never hurt me."

Lisant shook his head at him. "As you say. But with all that aside, I'm your true husband, Ianto, and I mean to remind you of that."

Ianto's vision clouded with fury. "Don't you dare remind me of anything. You are _not_ my husband. Our marriage was never legal. It was completely meaningless."

He leaned forward and realized too late that he'd attracted some attention.

Quickly, he sat back.

"Come home with me, Ianto. It's time to stop this."

"I told you I'm not going. And I'm warning you…"

"Warning me, are you?" He chuckled. "I should think you'd know better than to threaten me."

Despite the pain it caused, Ianto climbed down the other side of the skipper to get away from him.

"Where are you going?" Lisant calmly asked, following him to the boardwalk.

"Away from you." An unexpected raindrop landed on his cheek.

"But we're not finished yet."

"Oh, yes, we are." he heard the sound of his footfalls on the boardwalk behind him, and felt his temper continue to rise.

"If I thought we were done," he said, "would I have come all this way to find you? To make sure you're keeping your mouth shut?"

Ianto stopped, recognizing the threatening, manipulative tone he'd thought he had escaped. An unpleasant chill shivered through him as rain suddenly fell from the sky in a torrential deluge, pattering on the overhang above them.

Ianto moved into a doorway. "Get out of my sight, Lisant."

"You know I can't. I love you too much. I live for nothing else."

"That's rubbish." he knew this was another one of his great performances. He may have fallen for it before, but he was no longer that same naïve young fool.

Lisant glanced toward the skipper parked outside the mercantile. "Oh look. Your farmer has finished his shopping."

Ianto's stomach exploded with apprehension. Part of him wanted to call for Jack and tell him what was happening, but Jack would most certainly blow a gasket. He'd go after Lisant, and knowing Lisant, Jack could end up dead. Jack stopped just outside the store, saw the empty skipper, then glanced up and down the street.

His stomach in knots, Ianto watched Jack pause while waiting for the pedestrians on the boardwalk to clear. His dark hair blew across his face. The tail of his coat whipped in the misty wind.

"Will you introduce us?" Lisant asked.

Ianto shot him a glare. "He doesn't want to meet you."

"I doubt that. I think he'll want to meet me, very much so."

Just then, Jack looked in his direction. He stood motionless, staring at him.

Ianto felt as if he were choking.

"Oh, good, he's seen us," Lisant said, cheerfully.

Ianto wondered if he should run to Jack before Lisant had a chance to say anything.

He had to try.

He could not let him find out this way.

When Jack started toward him, he made a move, but Lisant closed his fist around his good arm and jerked him back to him. He winced in pain.

"Not so fast, love," he breathed into his ear. "I want to meet your latest husband."

Ianto felt as if he were standing on the edge of a cliff, teetering, about to be pushed over the side.

Setting the wooden box full of supplies in the back of the skipper, Jack walked sternly toward them, not once releasing Ianto from his intense blue-eyed gaze.

Thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance and rain poured like a curtain from the slanted awning above.

Time seemed to slow down as Jack neared.

Ianto tried to take a step forward, but Lisant tugged him back again. He'd always been brazen, but this was beyond belief.

Jack arrived with a frown, a muscle twitching at his jaw. "Ianto?"

He shook his head frantically, trying to tell him with his eyes that he hadn't planned this, that Lisant was his enemy, and that he had not known he'd followed him all the way from Delvon Prime.

Jack's eyes shifted to Lisant.

He felt the grip on his arm loosen.

He immediately moved closer to Jack.

"I don't believe we've been properly introduced," Lisant said, holding out his hand. "You must be Jaxton, but I hear they call you Jack. I'm Lisant Hallet. I've heard a lot about you."

Jack glanced at Ianto whose heart tightened with dread. This was his worst nightmare come true.

"It seems we have a great deal in common," Lisant remarked, lowering his hand when Jack refused to shake it.

"I doubt that," Jack said. "What do you want?"

"What do _I_ want? I should think that's obvious."

Jack set the box down on the boardwalk and took a step forward, crowding Lisant up against the wall. Ianto had not known his husband to be a violent man, but at this moment, he saw another side of him, and wasn't sorry, if it meant Lisant would feel intimidated.

Or possibly get punched in the nose.

And yet, he feared for Jack's safety, because Lisant possessed no scruples. He might have a gun or a knife up his sleeve.

"Don't worry, Ianto," Lisant said. "He just wants to intimidate me."

"Damn right I do." Jack said nothing more. Seconds of taut silence passed, until

Ianto touched his husband's arm.

"Jack, let's just go home. He's not worth it."

At first, Jack didn't respond. Then, thankfully, he stepped back, but not without saying his piece. "I know what you did to him, you slimy bastard, so why don't you go back where you came from before I tear you limb from limb."

Lisant raised a haughty eyebrow. "I didn't travel all this way to be bullied by _you_."

"I don't care what you came for," Jack said, turning away. "You're not to speak to my mate ever again. Do you understand me?"

The challenge between them hung in the air while the rain beat down on the overhang. Ianto's heart thumped wildly in his chest. His breaths came in quick, short gasps.

Ianto shot a look toward Lisant, begging him with his eyes. _Please, don't say_

 _anything more. Just let us go_ ….

A slow, crooked smile played across his face. " _Your_ mate? I think you're mistaken about that, sir."

"Jack, let's just _go_." Ianto tried to drag him away, but Lisant followed.

Jack jabbed a finger at him. "No, _you're_ mistaken, you foul piece of trash, because Ianto and I were married at the courthouse a month ago."

Lisant shook his head. "You may have signed your name on the dotted line, but he still isn't your mate."

"Why the hell not?"

Lisant's dark eyes narrowed, and Ianto feared he might faint dead away at his

husband's feet.

"Because he's _mine_."

.

.

.

.

End Part II


	13. Chapter 13

"You said there was more?" he mentioned, working hard to keep his voice steady.

"Yes." Gray reached for a document he had laid on the counter. He put on his spectacles, and read some of it over to himself. Those few silent seconds felt more like an eternity.

Finally, he set down the page. "In 3162, an Antibigamy Act was set forth. It's a federal statute making bigamy a criminal activity."

"Will Lisant go to jail?"

"Yes, once he's reported to the proper authorities, but so could you, Ianto."

,

,

,

,

Jack set the bucket down in the dark dugout, and accidentally kicked a chair as he moved toward the window to open the curtains. When he turned, Gwen was still standing on the bottom step, looking around the one-room house.

After a general perusal, she moved all the way in and set her saddlebag on the table. "I see a definite improvement since the last time I was here. Ianto certainly branded the place."

She walked to the window. "What lovely curtains."

She rubbed the fabric together between her thumb and forefinger and noticed the dried flowers in the vase. "I'll have to replace these first thing."

Jack's stomach lurched.

"Yes, a new bouquet tomorrow," Gwen chirped.

 _Tomorrow_.

.

.

.

.

Part 3 is now up and running and I hope you don't tell at your screen in public. This one is going to make you angry.

xxxx


End file.
